


s 


$ 









>0^ c 


0 








V ' ^ * <r ^ A 

0" ^ '' 

c~\'VXx . ^ V 

^ « *>• 

,>^ \0 » 



. t t B . 


^ n 1 

0 \ 



<X 


A 


<i '-^f^' 

>- 


''-^ t- 





cP- 



‘>t-v V 

o 0^ 


s?5 


0 





'^0 <^‘ ^ ;• 

^ .0' ’O^ ^ r^ ^ 

. o ’^ S ' ’ ‘ '% ’ \> ^ '‘' * 0 ^ 



\0®^. 


.0 


,0 





S S ^ 



A' 


.3^ 


,\ 


X 







A 




.V d'' 


0 t>. K 




C^ t> 

V ' B Z ) 




Q 


0 N 


a'A 


o 0 


.X 


jA * ^ 





'>^ -AN 


«' . 0 - 



: -o 0 ^ : 

° 

^ aX- V 

^ A-' ^ 



// C 


d-) 


V' 









” ‘b'= A 

V 


t \ 


<o 


V/ 



C‘ 


\ 








a i 




A''" 


'V 






Cs y ^> 

V? ^ 





.0*^ V 

L. -j 


r> <t 


0 ^ 


'V 


☆ ☆ 


0 


\ 


'S c"^ 




s\ 


- 0 ^ <“ '■'»/'%, a "-' 

-J^i. v^ ' 


..>:aAa,:°°':v'''~- 

A . ^'X’' A" 







' ' ‘ >^ '-; 

\ ^ ^ A o > 

'' \X -X ^ A X ^ 



'A .A " 


A' X A ;, >«" .0-' -o, * , ^ 

^ f? 51 . . a'X’ A ^ 



A’ 








r<. 



KS 



A 


A ' o 





.X .. 


\ ’ « \ ' X 'X 


A' 


0 ^ 





A C‘ 


\ 


\ 




S (\J 



'^o o '^ 


'I 



S -r.. 


\ ^ o 
^ '' Z' 


'A A '"' 



O 


A 

oV ^ 

> ). '' ■'''/. ^ 
.0^ c « '■ ♦ -A * ” 

0 ’> c~XTv 


0 





^ -v 

\ 


rp 

<r 

s 


o. 

A--^ 

" k> 


1 fl ^ 


\ 



>• 

^ ^/f 

yy^ ■?" 



y ''M^ << o ► 

A * 0 ’ A 

> C ’ V » ^ » , 

'X . Y- (C? 

*. A^' * ^ 


H 1 



A c 

«/ ■/ / 




X‘ 




■\ 


V- V^ 


\ 


0 C >^ 




o 0 ^ 


^ ; " A . / 

<* ^ ^ 


c* 


fi \ \ 


2? ■<? 


" .0 K 0 ^ _ \V 



X. "C*. " V' S}. ^ ^ / 



xO ^^. 


,0' 



Cl ^ o 


. // X > ' 


A <Cp o 




V" 




'"' A ' '' 


\\‘ </> 

\X^' - = 

‘V 'X .J 

* 

. , „ '?/> 0 X 


X 



"xf‘ 


cr > ,• 



7 







y 


C 



^ -b -X 








.\0 


s 


.0 



ff I ' 



^ ^\\ • '^ 


\0°<. 



c.'p - 

. ^ » 

0 ^ X " ^0 

o'' : ‘V^ 

O > rl^ I A 

N. ^ ^ 0 N 0 ^ ■V g , \ ^ 

. 0 ' v^ ^ . 0 ^ 

<i‘^ o J" y. ^ 

H // *r >. 'n 

^ 'A- oV ^ ^ '- .V 

. rj^ tr - ^ ^ ^ ^ y % V c#^ ^ ^ e> -• ' 

/y » ;\' " ' ^ ^oo^^c 0 - ,X" « “ ' ^ 0 ^ 


^ 1 ?^ <1 » ^/*_ ^ s 


.\X‘ <f>. 

^X" o 




*X V 

o 0 ^ 




x^q,. 


^\\r 


o 0 


\\ 


'/> '^ •'-) K 0 xX’ 


V 


^ ^ ^ « y 


’0* ^-y . 

> " ’ ,0> s'>"^ '^O 

|, V ,.^ .,x^-.'^«s.^ ^ 


'-) s 0 


.X 


x- 








V. 


A 


0 


x^ 


V' 


: -x^ 




\ 


0 o 


y ' -0^ X ^ 

0 (T-SSN'x 

^ ^X c ^ ' 


-v 


X 


' '^ ^ " \\\ V 1 

v" 


0 


x® q<, 






■^r/ " 


V* 4"N 

^ H \ \ N. s 5 .V 

xXs 'P 


X> ^ 




$ 


^ ' ® >? ^h 

v 


•i^ -ix ^ 


-V '> ^ ^ V -.X-’ 

^ ( \ 'Z /» I I "V 

.-r y - - <^ 


>* 

,-0‘ > 


vXs 


A V 




: 




<^> 


<X 




'f' ’A. 




sx '' * « / 


> aX' 

V> ,< V 


\ 

»' » i ' “ ■ c.®'' ,,. /’A. "" ■’To >" >#' 


I 




\ 


o 


as 


■cr> 




V 


: .x'^' 


V . 


« ^•-, aX' - - " 

cT* ,C V 

^ /^ X ^rn ■! I\\w\ V 

A'^^' ° 

^ x'X ^D ^ 0 ^ K ^ r^ s'' i'X 






V 

o 0 ^ 


A 


9 I \ 


s ^ / 


^ 0 M 0 ^ » X' 

\‘ 


-4 >* 

^x"*- Ai. * 


X®®^. 


W 


.0 


•xA 


z 


J: ^.x^' 


*»''*' . S = . 


// C^_ 


- av^ - V 

« ^ " « A, o"^ c » ^ --y 

<< .-SI^v . \ VN^JiSsi V- 


A 






ft <x ^ 



/7\ -< 




V 







^ \ ^ 0 if. K 

xA^ . ‘ ® ^ ^o 

yXs _,v>z- t o 





V 




v 



i 


I 


! 

I 

\ N 




/ 


V 


y 


« 







» 








i 

.1 


It 




i 




CHICAGO: 

MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO., PUBLISHERS. 

IDYLWILD Series. Vol. I, No. 12, June 20, 1892. Issued weekly. Annual Subscription, $26.00. 
Entered in the Postoffice at Chicago as second-class matter. 






• V •-.' '•Til , ' - _ . ., 

•‘ *. fi ' • J" .r ' • . 


“S^ 




..V*; 


;' V' I'Jf- V 

.' / ii I , 




i ., yfe 


't - 


■r- 


'nj ‘ • * 


.• 


P> i'^. ',^V/ '? • , . ^ r , . 

7‘, 

^ ■< V ■ ; 

I ^ . •i-' '< - 

_/*v-- s^':: „ . ^ . ■>' 'r 


‘ y -A- ’■'. ' ' T 






■;i/V'-' V* .•••;■• 

■ '-X/. / ‘ ■•*■ -r .--V ■ 


S'' ■ ><;' 




■ ^ u 

'V sj * * * ’ •' 

-S. tc- , •“ S;' >■' • ' 

t . ' ’44^ 

\ ^VX* '■ '• ■4w>’t'y.:- 




vfp‘' • ^ 


r » :".•. ■•'■. '.‘'C .'V - tf. •• ' • - '-' 

• .‘v • '« • ■ l'-CK^'-v - -. >* 


^ ^-i’' -*. . ■’ '***f^'^ 'Wm? 





1/ .' 


^ i ^ ' ■-■ ■" ■' 





. : > #•'’- 






• . ^^ , , ,>»f y 

»4'-: ■■■'■;i;' i, -';- 1 

'Hi -3!.^; '-A 


1 








' \-' • ‘‘'\ , ■*'■" *’' V- j * 

■• «. ,-.. "■.«».• ■• • •’■' ■■■ . < ■ '4 • ' 3’ i ./-- 

:v .-'.^■li'"-' 

•> .■: >_ •'Vrr-.. .' ’ V*.'-'''^ 


■iL 1. 




%■ 


M" '.^■ 


» % 


f- ‘ ' 


■Vy'-!S 




-Mr y . .. ■‘.: 


' •*.’ '.' Ji yVi 






' s 


^ •P'.l ^ ^ 

>' ;i1 


Jx- 



>' li 


'•', , ly ^ 




» .' ; k': 


. .,.y * .• 




H.V 




( 'V;. jk. 



ip- 





■•V * ■ 'J •> \-ii 

S' y. , ‘Ct^f V y\ ■ . 


. ■ • ■ 





• ; ■^: . 


I-:;.,' 


jSfFfc* 

•■‘j- .V.A , 


.y >,•!■'• 


■a ■• - iMBW^jasw-nr— ^ - ' - ■ ....■■"'•»'• 

ipi^ .- 


•■yy 


I ' 





m ' , ^• -/4 ^ •'•t. fl Bt_jL 'jL 

■ ^■■; -»s :■ ..’ •■ V • \»p • ■ ’ * 

• ■ ■ ■"' x^vy. . ' ■■■'- ■ • ' % i .• 

- V/..; :, /• .y ■•■■.: „..*: pv: ^ -, ■> 





• * ; 
s'. 


,.n;- . 


*) <*' .- 


, .. ; :' -.- 8 <^| i$ K..^.-f-, y ^■ y^VV.V 

" :: : piH-yV- ,J-^- . ';v:' ■ 

< . . *• ' • • '. J'-' jOTBFt. • '^i'' 



l'K.‘ '•’' 

V. '\ 


• ••* 


*> •* 

> 'i 




... >!yy lygjyiiP’:’:: : ,,,'^ 






> » < -S£ * '■ • ' 


/» t. 


. >. » -v *'| «o- •• • i;«^ • 

■■• 'V:X.,yy. ' 






'* - • 'tj:', yy '. ■ 

' ' -y -P 

.‘•‘ . *. . ^ v/'AJj.Wyr' ; T.%j(^ 








A' * 

■ :.5>r 






k > ».- , 


yf.’ 





O' . 



M-'. \ 


y>V' '»' 


( ' 


'k' 






. /’S " h^L- 

ci}':' ' ' '■• vS'A;'', 

.1* •• ' , ' . • •*_.'*W 


.« r-' 

; ■■'> ■■,. •■it, ' . ■ 


■t; ; 


1 ^ 






V ■ ^•. 

y 


. > y 


yyyr.' 



1 . 
4 , 


. ■' '* t : ‘ ' //. • V 


S .' 


t T 


t X' ^ 






i \'' -Vi-V-*. x\ ••: \ .- • ' ^ /' 




X 








/ 


/ 








I 

« 




/ 





. ' ■ -If ' r »•' ‘ 

^ v\ > 


\ 


•# . . . 

X • 

; 





4 


t 






SHE MADE NO ANSWER, BUT OPENED TPIE DOOR AND PLACED ONE FOOT ON THE 

CARRIAGE STEP.” 


0 

THE PERFUME 

OF THE VIOLET 


Adapted from the French of /iDubret Le Laforest 




BY 


FRANK HOWARD HOWE 


CHICAGO 

MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO. 
1892 






COPYRIGHT 

1892 

Morrill, Higgins & Co. 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


She made no answer, but opened the door and placed 

one foot on the carriage steps . . . Frontispiece 


The dead woman was laid out on a bed, strewn with im- 
mortelles and white roses ..... 29 

“I mean that you are a monster and that I hate you!” 73 
“ Disperse, you loafers, or I’ll lay out two of you!” 80 

But the dark figure went by without stopping to molest 

the peasants ....... 133 

“Why, you black rascal, what do you mean?” . 139 

Sometimes at night he would take a lamp in his hand and 

survey the portraits of his ancestors . . . 153 

He took a crucifix from his pocket, which he regarded 

fixedly 197 




I 








% 



\ 






\ 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

CHAPTER I 

Monsieur Louis Chazeau, a rising member 
of the bar in the town of Noutron in Peri- 
gord, had just finished an elaborate argument 
before the city court, which had attracted the 
attention and favorable comment of several 
of the elder lawyers present. Flushed with 
satisfaction and with the exertions he had 
been making, the young barrister had just 
resumed his seat and the court was about to 
take a recess, when a messenger placed in 
Chazeau’s hand a telegram which he straight- 
way opened and read. It was as follows: 

“Paris. 

“Mademoiselle Elise dead. Little Colette 
all alone. Come. 

“Angela Reboul, concierge ^ 

The agitation displayed by the attorney 
9 


lO THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

after perusing this message was so marked 
as to attract the attention of many in the 
court-room and curious glances were cast after 
the young lawyer as he rose, nervously gath- 
ered together his books and papers, and 
hurriedly left the room. 

It was the month of December, 1864. 
The weather was freezing cold and the frost 
nipped the bare fingers of the young man as 
he walked along under the leafless branches 
of the linden trees that lined the street, hold- 
ing the telegram in his hand and confusedly 
reading over and over again the message 
which it contained. The four letters “d-e-a-d” 
and the four words ‘‘little Colette all alone” 
were written in a larger script then the rest 
of the message, as though the awkward hand 
of some new telegraph clerk had broadened 
and thickened them in order to load them the 
more heavily with sorrowful meaning and to 
make them tell as forcibly as possible the 
story of death and misfortune which they 
contained. The fierce winter wind shrieked 
through the leafless branches of the trees 
above which the leaden, somber-colored clouds 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET II 

were rapidly hurrying. In the stiffening 
fingers of the young lawyer the little slip of 
paper rattled, rustled and seemed to moan in 
unison with the dirge that was sounding in 
his own heart. 

Monsieur Chazeau walked rapidly up the 
street. His usually' calm bearing had disap- 
peared altogether. His hat, which he usually 
wore precisely set on the top of his head, 
was now tilted carelessly back. His black 
hair was all awry and his whiskers even had 
a disheveled look. His cravat had slipped 
around under one ear, and his face wore such 
an anxiously unhappy look that the proprietor 
and several habitues of the Cafe de la Rotonde 
came out on the balcony to look at him as he 
hurried by. 

“Hello! Look at Chazeau. What a mouth 
he is making! Wonder what’s the matter.” 

“Looks as if he had been crying. See how 
pale he is.” 

“He’s been making a speech in court and 
has lost his case.” 

“Look! look! Why he’s almost running. 
Perhaps he has gone mad.” 


12 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


A snarling voice from within, here inter- 
rupted the gossips with the information, 
delivered in a high key: 

‘4t’s freezing cold in here.” 

Whereupon the others re-entered the house 
and, closing the window, gathered around the 
stove in the drinking-room. 

“Bright young man, that Chazeau,” was 
the comment of the proprietor, Laborde. 

“A deal of talent — a deal of talent,” said 
Father Voisin, a little old gentleman who 
wore large gold-bowed spectacles. “He’s 
beginning to get the ear of the court. One 
of these days he’ll make his mark, you’ll see. 
I wonder what has happened to him to-day.” 

“Ah, to be sure, what has happened to 
him to-day was the general query echoed 
by the company gathered about the stove. 
But no one was found to answer it. 

Meanwhile Chazeau continued his rapid 
course up the long street. Several ladies of 
his acquaintance, who passed him without 
receiving the usual greeting, turned and 
looked wonderingly after him. What! Could 
that be Monsieur Chazeau with his hat tilted 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


13 


SO carelessly over one ear? He was ordinarily 
so punctilious and so correct in his deportment 
and now he was rushing along up the street, 
paying no attention to those he might meet, 
looking for all the world like a mad rustic, 
rather than the well-behaved gentleman he 
was supposed to be. 

“Is he drunk?’^ 

“Is he demented?” 

“Well, I like his impudence.” 

“The scamp, he didn’t notice my bow.” 

These were some of the comments that 
might have been wafted to the young attor- 
ney’s ears had he stayed to listen. But he 
hastened on. At the corner of the Rue des 
Cordiers was the pharmacy of his friend 
Sireyjol. Here, it was his custom almost 
every day to stop and chat with the worthy 
druggist. Sireyjol now, seeing his crony go 
by, tapped on the window to attract his at- 
tention, and was vastly indignant at not 
receiving even a gesture in reply. At last the 
lawyer reached the door of his house. There 
he crushed down into his pocket the telegram 
which he had carried until then in his hand. 


14 the perfume of the violet 

and, after making some slight attempt to 
smooth his crumpled array, raised the 
knocker and rapped briskly for admission. 

Mariette, the chambermaid, had gone out 
on an errand; Margaret, the old cook, was en- 
gaged in preparing a chicken for the oven; 
Ferdinand was splitting wood out in the 
barn; so it happened that Madame Chazeau 
herself came to the door. 

At sight of her husband's face, which she 
had seen a few hours before all smiling and 
happy, the young wife perceived that some- 
thing unpleasant had happened. She steadied 
herself, not so much to support the shock of 
the bad news as to animate the courage of the 
husband whom she loved devotedly. 

The lawyer said never a word as he passed 
his wife and entered the hall-way. Trem- 
blingly, she asked him: 

“Is your case finished 

“Not yet.’^ 

“How warm you are! The drops of per- 
spiration stand out on your forehead. Don't 
stay here. You'll catch cold. Hurry into 
the dining-room, dear. There's a good fire 
there.’' 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


15 


She took his portfolio of papers from him 
and drew him gently within. The lawyer 
followed her confusedly, vainly trying to 
conceal his agitation. His wife seated him 
in an easy-chair before the dining-room fire 
and kissed him fondly. But she forebore to 
question him. Just then little Renee, who 
had been watching Margaret’s operations with 
the chicken, scratched at the dining-room 
door, calling: 

‘‘Papa, papa.^^ 

She was admitted and at once crept into 
her father’s arms. 

“Papa!” 

“My darling little girl!” The mother con- 
templated them both as they caressed each 
other. She hoped that the child’s kisses 
would have the effect of driving away the 
careworn look from the man’s brow. But it 
did not. Presently the lawyer drew the little 
girl’s arms from about his neck and set her 
gently upon the floor. 

“Go back to Margaret now, please, Renee 
darling,” he said. 

The little one toddled off, contentedly. 


1 6 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

When he was once more alone with his 
wife, Chazeau said to her: 

“Anna, I must go to Paris at once — this 
evening.” 

“Is it bad news?” 

“Yes.” 

“May I know?” 

“No, I must not tell you anything. I can- 
not tell you the truth and I am not good at 
lying. Better — ” 

“Better for me to know nothing — to weep 
and suffer alone here while you are far away 
from me?” 

He hesitated a moment, then said: 

“Yes, better so.” 

She came and stood before him. 

“I am your wife,” she said, simply, “and 
if it is your duty to keep silence, it is mine to 
make you speak. I do not care what your 
sorrow is; I wish to share it with you; I 
want my part of it.” 

A glow of wifely enthusiasm shone in her 
face and in her great dark eyes. Her whole 
person seemed to palpitate with the strong 
desire to share her husband’s suffering for 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


17 


which she pleaded. She was a medium-sized 
woman, fair and rather plump, with a line 
skin, fresh mouth, white teeth and an honest 
look in her pleasant face. She was of that 
order of wometti who most inspire confidence 
in their husbands. Still Monsieur Chazeau 
sat with his head bowed upon his hands and 
maintained a stolid silence. His wife, as she 
stood over him with that affectionate smile 
upon her lips which seemed potent to wrest 
his secret from him, so eloquently did it prom- 
ise pardon beforehand, appeared more terrible 
to him in her candid and simple kindliness 
than had the three judges on their bench on 
the occasion when he had had the honor to 
first plead before them at the bar. 

With a single word he felt that he might 
forever destroy the confidence of this dearly 
beloved woman, and dig between them a 
chasm so deep that the devotion of a life- 
time would be insufficient to fill it up. 

Should he lie.^ No, it was too late for 
lying. 

He was angry with himself for the spec- 
tacle of grief and despair which he knew he 


1 8 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

had presented in the court-room. He ac- 
cused himself for the feeling of weakness and 
cowardice that had taken possession of him 
when reading the telegram from Paris. He 
felt that he should have kept a mask upon 
his face and returned home in a pleasant 
or even lively frame of mind, and then upon 
some pretext have gone to Paris, and, his 
duty accomplished, have returned quietly to 
Noutron. No one but an idiot could have 
acted otherwise. His wife interrupted his 
thoughts at this point. 

‘‘Your silence does me wrong,” she said. 
“It permits me to imagine a worse misfortune 
perhaps than that which actually exists.” 

“But, my dear!” exclaimed Chazeau, 
earnestly, “believe me, the matter does not 
concern you at all.” 

“Very well, I do not insist. How long 
shall you be gone.^” 

“Two days.” 

“Shall you go this evening.^” 

“Yes. I shall take the seven o’clock train 
at Thiviers.” 

“And you haven’t spoken to the man yet.^ 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


19 


I will go and hurry up the dinner and pack 
your portmanteau.’’ 

“Thanks.” 

“Dinner will be ready as soon as you want 
it.” 

And Madame Chazeau left the room, sub- 
duing, as she went, a strong desire to shed 
tears. Her husband sat down at his desk and 
wrote a long despatch to Madame Angela 
Reboul, No. 71 Rue Cardinal-Lemoine, Paris, 
in which he said he would arrive the follow- 
ing morning and gave some orders with refer- 
ence to the obsequies of the Mademoiselle 
Elise mentioned in the concierge' s telegram. 

Meanwhile Anna had gone to her room. 
There her grief was permitted to have full play. 
It was the first unhappiness that had come to 
the household and it was the harder for the 
young wife to bear because its cause was a 
mystery so far as she was concerned. Was 
Louis ruined Had he engaged in stock- 
gambling.^ Had he lost more than his fort- 
une, his honor Was it some long-forgotten 
crime which now rose up and confronted him } 
Was he running away from her, perhaps.^ 


20 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


A thousand wild fancies crossed the im- 
agination of the young wife. She went back 
and forth between her own room and that of 
her husband, endeavoring to pack his valise, 
scattering his clothes and linen here and there, 
among the furniture, unable to bring her wits 
to a focus, and possessed by the dread that 
she was about to look upon the beloved face 
for the last time — the adored one would never 
return to her. 

Presently she heard steps upon the stairs. 
Then the dearly loved voice from the doorway 
pronounced her name. 

“Anna!” 

“My darling!” 

He held his arms out to her and she threw 
herself into them. The two reinained clasped 
in a close embrace. When they released each 
other, their faces were wet with tears. 

“Anna, I have a confession to make.” 

“Louis, you have my pardon in advance, if 
there is need of pardon.” 

Chazeau went straight to the point 

“Before our marriage,” he said, “there was 
— some one else — you understand — in Paris.” 

“When you were ,a student.^” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


21 


^‘Yes. She died this morning and she has 
left a child — a little girl — who is also mine. 
The child is left all alone.” 

“Poor little thing!” 

Then the maternal instinct took possession 
of her. 

“Louis, we have a daughter. You must 
not forget her.” 

“I know, but we are rich, Anna. She can 
never want. I have thought it my duty to 
provide a modest competence for — the other 
one.” 

“You are right.” 

“I feared to tell you this because I did not 
wish to give you pain. I need not tell you 
that I have never seen Colette’s mother since 
our marriage.” 

“Is your little one called Colette.^ What 
a pretty name! How old is she.^” 

“Seven years old.” 

“Three years older than our Renee. Did 
her mother die — in want.^” 

“No, I kept her from want. I could do so 
much without being false to you, could I not.?” 

Here the sound of the knocker was heard 
upon the front door. 


22 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘It is my mother,” said Chazeau; “not a 
word to her, please.” 

“Do not fear.” 

Madame Clorinde, Louis’ mother, had been 
to church. She was a little, bent woman in 
a black shawl and bonnet, with a thin, sweet 
face, framed by little gray curls. When her son 
and his wife descended to her she was in the 
hall-way with her book of hours in her hand. 

“The servant has just told me that you are 
going to Paris,” she said. 

“It is true, mother.” 

“A business matter, I suppose.” 

The lawyer bowed gravely. 

“What have you been crying about.?” 
queried the little old lady, glancing sharply 
at her son. “Your eyes are all red. And you 
too, Anna, you have been crying. My daugh- 
ter, what has happened.?” 

“Nothing much,” said Chazeau, smiling 
down upon her. 

“Tut-tut-tut ! You have secrets from your 
old mother. Come, Anna, what is it.?” 

“I know nothing, mamma.” 

Madame Clorinde observed them narrowly 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


23 


as if she would read the depths of their souls. 
Then, just as her daughter had done when 
Chazeau first entered the house, the mother 
braced herself to meet the coming blow. Her 
thin old hands seemed to grope about her as 
if to push away the menacing peril. 

‘‘Louis, you are in trouble,’^ she said. “But 
I wont ask questions. That will only worry 
you the more. But tell me, does your wife go 
with you.^” 

“No, I shall travel too rapidly. I shanT 
be gone more than three days.’^ 

“Take good care of yourself then. The 
weather is cold. Is your purse well filled.^ 
You have been spending a good deal on your 
farm lately. Wait a moment — I’ve a little sur- 
prise for you.” 

And the good woman hastened away as fast 
as her thin old legs would carry her to her 
chamber. 

“Dear old mother,” murmured the lawyer, 
looking after her. “Ah, if she but knew!” 

Anna followed her mother-in-law to her 
room, leaving her husband to finish his prep- 
arations for departure. 


24 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


When the two ladies reappeared there was 
the chink of gold in the elder one’s hand as 
she placed it in her son's. Anna stole up to 
him and whispered in his ear: 

“We shall have two children, dear. I want 
you to bring Colette back with you.’^ 

Monsieur Chazeau stood petrified at this 
announcement, with his eyes on the ground. 
His wife continued: 

“I shall be Colette’s mamma. You’ll see. 
I shall love her dearly.^’ 

But the attorney’s conscience revolted at 
this. He felt Uiat he ought not to permit 
his sin to stretch itself out indefinitely. His 
wife’s self-abnegation was sublime but he 
ought not to take advantage of it to the extent 
of bringing his unknown child into the family 
circle. He called on his mother to side with 
him in defending this decision against his wife. 
Madame Clorinde, at the outset, had been won 
over by the sorrowful picture of the poor child’s 
future, which her daughter-in-law had painted, 
and was disposed to accept her sacrifice. 
Now she began to take sides with her son in 
combating his wife’s plans. What would 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


25 


happen if Anna should have reason in the fut- 
ure to regret her kindness. 

“You are mistaken, mother,” Madam Cha- 
zeau declared in response to the elder woman’s 
suggestions. “So long as Colette is kept 
away from her natural home it will be an ever 
present reproach to Louis. His heart is so 
constituted that he will always yearn for the 
absent and disinherited daughter. He will 
love her more than the child who is near to 
him and whose life is bright and happy. Be- 
sides, what difference does it make ! Colette 
is the child of the man to whom I have linked 
my life and whose sufferings I have promised 
to share. She shall come to us. She will not 
interfere with Renee’s happiness or future. 
Renee will inherit all that belongs to us and. 
Louis shall provide a marriage portion for 
Colette out of the earnings of his profession.” 

“What will Monsieur Rouilhat say.^” asked 
her husband. 

“I shall not ask my father for any aid in 
supporting this small addition to our house- 
hold expenses,” was the wife’s prompt re- 
sponse. “Colette must not and shall not stay 


26 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


alone there in Paris. Seven years old and all 
alone! Poor little baby!” 

Monsieur Chazeau and his mother contin- 
ued to make a weak resistance, but in the 
end the young wife was victorious. 

“She shall be the child of both of us,” she 
exclaimed triumphantly, when she had at last 
overcome all their objections. 

The carriage was at the door waiting to 
take the master to the station and Margaret 
summoned them to dinner. Madame Chazeau 
took her little child in her arms and covered 
her face with kisses. 

“Darling,” she exclaimed, “papa is going 
to bring you a sister. Won’t that be nice.^” 

But the little girl did not seem to be very 
much pleased. She got down from her 
mother’s lap and went to tease the cat which 
was purring near the fireplace. After dinner 
Monsieur Chazeau took his leave of his family. 
He held his wife in his arms and, much 
moved, whispered to her: 

“Anna, Anna, you are a saint upon earth. 
May you never have cause to regret your 
kindness.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


27 


Then he stooped over Renee and the little 
one, looking up into his face, said: 

‘‘You are going to bring me a sister, papa? 
Oh! rd much rather have a dolly that can 
make a noise.’’ 

To the father as he turned away there 
seemed something prophetic in these careless 
words of his baby daughter. Would she 
have reason to remember them in her future 
life? 


CHAPTER II 

^‘When did she die?’^ 

“Yesterday at noon.’’ 

“Suddenly.^” 

“No, sir, no — she had lingered long.” 
“And suffered much.^” 

“Yes.” 

“You should have written me.” 

“She forbade me to do so, sir.” 

“Did you carry out my instructions.^” 

“Yes, sir. They are bringing up the coffin 
now.” 

“And the flower pieces.?” 

“Are in her chamber.” 

“Where is Colette.?” 

“In the next house with one of the poor 
lady’s friends.” 

“Is she a good child.?” 

“A perfect little jewel, sir.” 

“Go and get her, and await me here.” 
“Very well, sir. I shall follow the body to 
28 




A A 


4 


% 



i 


I 


r 


✓ 


% 


I 




t 





t 


/ 



# 


r 


/ 


t 


t 








r ♦ 


I 


I 


4 






4 




% 


I 


4 




« 

> • 

I 



% 




I 




« 





% 




4 


% 






« 


I 



» 

'*# 

; 

i 



I 


w 



I 


i 

« 

> 


i 


p 


;T- 

t • 






f 


f 


> /■' 


<- 


< 


V 


N 



) 

T 

{ 

$ 

I 


•> 


« t 


t 



• t 








* 




1 


i 


' J 




y 




■ 4 




T 


'n 

P 


':V. 

-A 

T 


r 

« 


1 






1 


I 


V* 


% 

^1 




» 

I 


* 




» 1 -^ 


I 


« 



% * 

\ I 


h 



>' 

* 




V 


I A 


« 


I 


» 




» 


^ 



« 



«* 



4 ^ t* 


( 


» 


r 4 

4. 





% « 


• t 

f 



Ki 



II 


THE DEAD WOMAN WAS LAID OUT ON A BED STREWN WITH IMMORTELLES AND 

WHITE ROSES. 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


29 


the cemetery, sir. My husband will take my 
place at the door while I am gone.’^ 

^^Thank you. You are a good woman. 

This conversation was held between Mon- 
sieur Chazeau and Madame Angela Reboul, 
concierge^ in the room of the latter, at num- 
ber 71 Rue Cardinal-Lemoine, at Paris, the 
day after the events mentioned in the last 
chapter. Louis now ascended the five flights 
of steps, which led to the chamber where lay 
the mortal remains of her whom he had 
known and loved as Elise Dumontheil. The 
dead woman was laid out on a bed, strewn 
with immortelles and white roses. In the 
dim light of the wax-candle could be seen the 
figures of two women, the hired watchers. The 
four undertaker’s men, who had gone out to a 
neighboring wine-shop to drink, according to 
their custom, to the memory of the deceased, 
could now be heard coming upstairs with the 
measured tread of those used to carrying 
heavy burdens between them. 

On the entrance of Chazeau the two 
watchers withdrew into the embrasure of the 
window. Louis thanked them with a sad 


30 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


smile and, kneeling before the couch, regarded 
long and sorrowfully the face of the dead. He 
thought of their first meeting and of the words 
of love that had passed between them and of 
how her young eyes had shone when he 
breathed his passion in her ear. 

There are calm deaths that scarcely seem 
to makfe an impression on the faces which they 
touch. It is with them like the end of a beau- 
tiful day, as the Ecclesiast says. They are 
silent, the eyes are closed, the heart no longer 
beats, but the face still wears a look of life. 
One would say that it needed but a word 
or a slight caress to waken them again. 
Elise’s death slumber was like that. The 
slow tears followed each other down the 
cheeks of the former law-student as he gazed 
upon the marble profile of the dead woman. 
Presently, one of the watchers approached 
and murmured: 

‘^Monsieur, it is time to go. They are here.” 

Chazeau arose, and now the undertaker and 
his men were ready to perform the last duties. 
He made a sign with his head; the functionary 
approached, closed up the coffin and his men 


THE PERFUME OF I'HE VIOI.ET 


31 


slowly carried it out. The lawyer gave his 
hand to little Colette, who had, in the mean- 
time, been produced by the concierge. They 
two, the concierge and one or two other wo- 
men, friends of the deceased, made up the 
little funeral procession. 

Upon the return from the cemetery, little 
Colette, a child of seven years of age and 
singularly acute intelligence, was told that the 
strange gentleman was her father, who had 
come to take her away with him. 

“Sir,’’ said the little one, looking scrutiniz- 
ingly up into Chazeau’s face, “if you are my 
papa why didn’t you come before and take 
care of mamma?” 

Chazeau changed countenance in spite of 
himself and for the moment felt at a loss for a 
word to say. Madame Reboul came to his as- 
sistance. 

“Colette,” she said, impressively, “there 
were some wicked people who prevented your 
papa from coming to Paris any sooner.” 

The little girl continued to regard her 
father’s face for a moment or two and then, 
apparently satisfied by what she saw, turned 
silently away. 


32 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


At eight o’clock that evening Monsieur 
Chazeau and his daughter took their places in 
the train, en route for Thiviers. They got 
something to eat at the Orleans station. But 
Colette took so little that her father laid in a 
store of provisions for her consumption on 
board the train. When they got into their 
carriage again the lawyer wrapped the child 
carefully in a warm rug. Colette smiled her 
thanks. It was the first sign that the strange 
gentleman of yesterday was being metamor- 
phosed in her mind into the papa of the 
future. 

An old gentleman and lady, half asleep, 
were the only other occupants of the carriage. 

Chazeau asked the little girl if she would 
like to go to sleep. 

“No,^^ she said, “I’d rather talk with you.” 

They spoke to each other in a low tone. In- 
stinctively and gradually the child nestled to- 
ward her father as the winter night spread 
itself darker and darker over the silent moors 
across which they were being whirled. 

“Colette.?^” 

“Monsieur.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


35 


“You will have a grandmamma, too.^^ 

“What a happy child I’m going to be!’^ the 
little girl exclaimed, with shining eyes. Then 
she reached up and gave her father a resound- 
ing kiss. 

Presently, however, in spite of herself, the 
orphan, doubtless remembering the sorrowful 
day through which she had just passed, be- 
came once more pensive. 

“If mamma had not died,” she asked pres-- 
ently, “would you have come to fetch me 
away.^^” 

The lawyer coughed to hide his embarrass- 
ment and said nothing. Then Colette, join- 
ing her little hands together in an attitude of 
supplication, said: 

“I am a naughty girl and I am worrying 
you. Pardon, papa.” 

He took her on his lap and began to undo 
the small basket of provisions he had pur- 
chased at the station. 

“Come, Colette,” he said. “I want you to 
eat something. You scarcely took anything 
at the restaurant a little while ago. You will 
be sick, I am afraid.” 


36 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


Although she was not hungry she took 
what he gave her, to please him. So the papa- 
mamma waited upon the child, and after- 
wards rocked her in his arms, humming the 
while an old ditty with which the nurses of 
Perigord are wont to sing their children to 
sleep. The man’s voice was so sweet that 
the little girl fought against the sleepy feeling 
that was stealing over her in order to listen 
to it. At the end of each verse she would 
rouse herself and, touching her own lips with 
the tips of her small fingers, would lay them 
upon her father’s mouth in token of her 
thanks. It was a childish tribute of gratitude 
that was indescribably graceful and touching. 

Presently the old gentleman and lady got 
out at a way station and Colette and her father 
were left alone in the coach. Then the child 
at last went to sleep. Seeing which the father 
ceased his lullaby. 

As the lawyer sat there alone in the coach 
holding his sleeping child in his arms, a vision 
of the two paths which stretched out before 
the little one’s feet, either one of which she 
might choose, rose before his mind. Which 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


33 


“You mustn’t call me ‘Monsieur.’ Say 
‘papa. ’ ” 

“Papa.’^ 

“That’s better. You are going a long way 
with me, dear. Are you afraid?” 

She raised a pair of eyes that were still 
bright, in spite of the many tears they had so 
recently shed, and gravely shook her head. 

“Why did you come with me so willingly?” 
the father continued. “You did not know me. 
If any other man had come to your mamma’s 
house would you have gone with him without 
hesitation, too?” 

“In Paris little girls are not fools,” was the 
grave reply. “I knew at once that you were 
my father.” 

“How?” 

“Because you were good.” 

“But the first wor.ds you spoke to me con- 
tained a reproach. Don’t you remember say- 
ing to the strange gentleman: ‘If you are my 
papa, why did you not come and take care of 
mamma?’” 

“Yes, that’s true. But when I looked at 
you more closely, I saw how much you had 

3 


34 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


suffered. So I didn't try to understand any 
rnore.’^ 

“Dear child! And did your mamma never 
speak to you of me?” 

“Never. Only the day before she died she 
kept repeating your name — Louis.” 

.“With anger?” 

“She? Oh, no. She was not naughty.” 

“And I am not naughty either, Colette. 
You will see how I shall love you. In the first 
place I’m going to give you a new mamma.” 

“A new mamma?” 

“And a little sister.” 

The child began to laugh in a curiously shy 
way. 

“What is my sister’s name?” she asked. 

“Renee.” 

“How old is she?” 

“Four years old.”. 

“Does she. know that you came after me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And does she like it?” 

“Very much.” 

“Ah, that’s good. I shall be very nice to 
her.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET" 


39 


daughter, “what’s the matter with that old 
Ferdinand of yours? Has he left you?” 

“No, mother, he is at Thiviers,” 

“At Thiviers? Arid to-day fair-day at Nou- 
tron? Why, the world is upside down.” 

“Ferdinand has gone to meet my husband 
at the station.” 

“Has Louis been traveling?” 

“Yes — to Paris.” 

“To Paris! And you never said anything 
about it.” 

“Louis had to go hastily on important 
business. He only went day before yester- 
day.” 

“A lawsuit in Paris?” 

“No.” 

“What, then?” 

“You will know when he gets here.” 

“Oh, I’m in no hurry. But I don’t like 
mysteries.” 

Madame Rouilhat followed her daughter 
into the dining-room, where she met with 
another surprise on surveying the table set for 
breakfast. It was ornamented with a profu- 
sion of flowers and there was an extra place 
set. 


40 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


Looks like a wedding breakfast/’ was the 
old lady's comment. ‘‘Are you expecting 
some one?” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“From Paris?” 

“Yes.” 

“Maybe I am asking too many questions. 
Are we incommoding you? You know you 
have only to say the word and we’ll go.” 

“Oh, mamma!” 

“Is your guest some great personage?” 

“Not at all.” 

Madame Chazeau hastened to change the 
subject. 

“Any news at Saint-Front?” she asked. 

“Nothing. Where is papa? Let me go 
out and give him a kiss.” 

“Wait till he has unharnessed the horse.” 

“Is there no one there to take the horse?” 

“Have you just found that out? My dear, 
where is your head?” 

Anna hastened out and met her father in 
the hall-way. He was standing in his big 
boots and shaking the blue blouse that he 
wore over his cloth coat as if all the dust arvd 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


37 


would she take? The one led to evil com- 
panions and worse pleasures, to want, to vice 
and finally to a vile death: the other led to a 
simple but honest life. Then there seemed to 
come to his ears, from out of the intense dark- 
ness that shrouded the future, a song of holy 
harmony calling Colette’s name, and through 
it there shone a star, lighting the path which 
she was expected to take, and in that path ten- 
der hands were stretched out to protect her, to 
lead her to a home of love and blessedness. 
And the star seemed then to assume the 
likeness of his beloved wife, his Anna, whose 
heart was ever open to receive the homeless 
and friendless, whose holy charitableness had 
never yet been sounded to its depths. 

At five o’clock in the morning the train 
reached Thiviers and Colette was avv’akened* 
Chazeau carried her out on to the platform 
in his arms. There he found awaiting him 
his man, Ferdinand, who had driven over in 
the buggy from Noutron. 


CHAPTER III. 


It was Saturday and fair-day at Noutron. 

Every Saturday Monsieur and Madame 
Rouilhat, Madame Chateau’s father and 
mother, came to breakfast with their daugh- 
ter. 

Although Anna, in the enthusiasm of the 
moment, had assured her husband and moth- 
er-in-law that she would have no trouble in 
overcoming any objections her parents might 
urge against her adopting Colette, it was not 
without many misgivings that the devoted wo- 
man awaited their advent on that particular 
morning. 

It was about nine o’clock when they arrived. 
They were surprised that the man did not as 
usual come out to take charge of their car- 
riage. Madame Honorine went into the house 
leaving Monsieur Leander busy with the 
horse. 

‘‘Hullo said the former, embracing her 
38 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


43 


had never been reviewed by the courts, else 
it is impossible to tell what might have hap- 
pened. 

fine house this is,’’ exclaimed Monsieur 
Leander, seating himself in a chair with his 
back to the fire. 

Madame Honorine raised her eyes and hands 
to the ceiling. 

“Oh, if should tell you, Leander, what I 
think!” she said. “There is no such thing as 
order here. Our daughter and her mother-in- 
law are ruining everything. It’s all very well 
to be charitable and look out for the poor. 
But charity begins at home, I say. And then 
that journey!” 

“What journey.^ Who is journeying.^” 

“Your son-in-law.” 

“Chazeau not at Noutron.^ Anna ought to 
have told me.” 

“Anna is a perfect dungeon of mystery. 
But Chazeau has gone up to Paris, and that’s 
the truth.” 

“Ah, you don’t say so! Perhaps some big 
law-suit, eh.^” 

“Oh, no.” 


44 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘Do you know what it is.” 

“I guess.” 

“Oh, you’re always guessing.” 

“Oh, very well, side with them.” 

“Well, they haven’t committed any crime, 
I suppose. Our son-in-law is neither a sot, 
a spendthrift nor a libertine.” 

“Now you are talking at a mark, monsieur 
the mayor.” 

“I am no such thing, madame the mayoress. 
I am expressing myself to the best of my abil- 
ity, in courteous and, I think, eloquent lan- 
guage.” 

“Indeed! You’ve a mighty fine opinion of 
yourself, haven’t you.?” 

After this there was a long period of silence 
between the two, which was finally broken by 
the sound of a carriage in front of the door, 
and little Renee’s voice in the hall, crying: 

“Here's papa! — here’s papa!” 

When Monsieur Chazeau entered, the 
family -were assembled around the break- 
fast table. To them he presented the little 
girl whom he led by the hand. The small 
black-robed figure bowed diffidently but with 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


41 


smell of the stable and barn were still clinging 
to his feet and clothes. He wore a full 
beard, which was of a reddish color with 
some silver threads running through it. He 
had a pair of cunning, bright eyes and the 
complacent smile that befits a gentleman-far- 
mer who is quite content with the lot heaven 
has bestowed oh him. His whole bearing 
betokened an obstinate will accompanied by 
perfect physical health. 

‘^Ah! there you are,” he growled, when he 
caught sight of his daughter. 

“Good-morning, father,” said Anna. 

“Good-day! Are you ruined, you two.^ 
Nice fun it is coming to see you. Where 
is your servant ? They say that man is best 
served who serves himself. Perhaps so. Still, 
at Saint-Front I keep people to unharness the 
horses of those who do me the honor to visit 
me. If I’m going to be worse treated when 
I go elsewhere, I may as well turn about and 
go home. I earned my money. I did, and — ” 

“Come, papa,” murmured Anna at this 
point. She held up her face smilingly to her 
father, and the old m^n, after holding off for 


42 


THE PERFUME OF TFIE VIOLET 


a moment, presently stooped and kissed it. 

‘‘Is breakfast ready?” he asked. 

“In a few minutes. Will you take some- 
thing first? A glass of Madeira?” 

“No, I don’t care anything for these foreign 
gargles. If you’ve got a glass of wine, I don't 
mind.” 

Madame Chazeau led him to' the dining- 
room and gave him the wine. Then not 
wishing to enter into farther explanations at 
present she left her parents together and went 
into the kitchen. 

Monsieur Leander Rouilhat, mayor of the 
commune of Saint-Front and dealer in prop- 
erty both real and personal, was about fifty 
years of age. He was a good talker, and 
possessed the most indomitable energy. For 
these reasons he had inspired the county peo- 
ple among whom he dwelt with a great re- 
pect for himself as a self-made man of fortune. 
He possessed a copy of the Code which his 
son-in-law had given him and he was in the 
habit of expounding the laws from it for his 
neighbors’ benefit in a manner quite satisfac- 
tory to them, though fortunately his opinions 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


47 


blushing. Madame Honorine did not look very 
pleasant, but then she was a woman, and chil- 
dren always have an idea that women will love 
and care for them, no matter how forbidding 
they may look. Besides, they don’t often 
strike children and their whippings are not so 
hard to bear as men’s are. Children know 
all that by instinct. 

After breakfast, Kenee, less from kindness 
than vanity, took her new sister to her 
mother’s room to show her her pretty clothes, 
her dolls and her toys. Before she left the 
room, however, she went to her father and 
asked in a wheedling tone: 

‘‘Papa, what did you bring me from Paris.^” 
The lawyer told her he had not time to get 
anything for her, but the next time he went 
to Limoges or any of the neighboring towns 
he would buy her a lovely present. Renee 
pointed to the larger child and asked: 

“Have you given her anything 
But her mother interrupted at this point. 
There was an angry ring in Anna’s usually 
sweet voice as she said: 

“It is very naughty to be jealous, Renee.” 


48 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


Then the two children went away. After 
they had left the room Monsieur Rouilhat lit 
his pipe and Monsieur Chazeau a cigar. 

“Father-in-law,” said the latter, “I want 
you to taste some new brandy I bought the 
other day.” 

Monsieur Leander drank the brandy slowly 
and with an approving wag of his head. Then 
Madame Honorine said impatiently: 

“Now for your story, Anna.” 

The maid entered at this moment to tell 
Monsieur Chazeau that several clients were 
waiting for him in the office. The lawyer 
sent word that he would be with them pres- 
ently. He felt that he must stay and aid his 
wife to weather the storm that was about to 
burst upon them. Anna, therefore, told the 
story as briefly as possible, concluding with 
the words: 

“Without trenching upon the rights or the 
fortune of our legitimate child we intend to 
bring up Colette and put her in the way of 
earning an honorable livelihood.” 

Madame Honorine shrugged her shoulders, 
dubiously. 


THE PERFUME OF. THE VIOLET 


45 


a certain air of distinction, as became a young 
Parisian. 

‘‘Do not be afraid of us, Colette,” exclaimed 
Anna. Then she and her mother-in-law has- 
tened to the child’s side and began to load her 
with welcoming caresses. The two country 
people, with little Renee between them, stood 
watching these proceedings in silence. 
Madame Chazeau, seeing that her parents 
awaited an explanation, gave it to them in a 
single sentence. 

“This is my second daughter,” she said, 
“whom I shall love dearly without ceasing to 
love my love my first one. Renee, kiss your 
sister.” 

“Her sister!” exclaimed the Rouilhats in a 
breath. 

“She is not my sister!” cried Renee. Then 
the child ran out into the kitchen, slamming 
the door after her. 

The little Parisian burst into tears. There 
was for a moment silence among the elders, 
broken only by the torturing sobs of the or- 
phan child. 

Monsieur Rouilhat paced up and down the 


46 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


room once or twice. Then lie stopped before 
Colette, saying: 

hate to hear children cry. Give her some- 
thing to eat. We’ll see what is to be done, 
afterwards.’’ 

“I am not hungry, sir,” sobbed Colette. 

Monsieur Chazeau was about to say some- 
thing when his wife interrupted him with a 
gesture. 

“Louis,” she said, “go to your chamber 
and change your clothes. Everything is laid 
out for you. Come back as soon as possible. 
We will talk the whole thing over after 
breakfast.” Then she turned to the little one 
and said, “Come with me, dear.” 

At breakfast the children were seated along- 
side each other after Renee had, at her moth- 
er’s command, kissed Colette. The meal 
was eaten in silence. The Rouilhats cast, from 
time to time, curious glances in the direction 
of the little stranger, which caused Colette to 
feel very awkward and ill at ease. The big 
man with the copper-colored beard was an ob- 
ject of special dread to her. Every time he 
looked at her she felt herself trembling and 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


49 


“You are crazy to think of such a thing, 
she said. 

Monsieur Leander laid his pipe down on his 
plate. 

“Son-in-law,” said he, “you have no right 
to take into your family this result of your 
youthful folly. You have no right, sir, under- 
stand me well, to thus impose on the good- 
nature and foolishness of your wife.” 

“Father,” said Anna, calmly, “it was I who 
made Louis go after Colette.” 

“You fool, you,” exclaimed her mother, los- 
ing her temper entirely. “You will die in the 
poor-house.” 

Both Chazeau and his wife bent their heads 
in silence before the storm. Madame Honor- 
ine then turned her attention to Madame 
Clorinde. 

“You, madame, should have made my idiot 
daughter listen to reason. If you had been 
the mother you should be you would have said 
to your son: ^You have married an honest 
woman; your youth is over; your wild-oats 
have been sown; let bygones be bygones; a 
new life has commenced for you and you must 
4 


50 


THE PERFUiME OF THE VIODET 


not foul it by bringing to your home your bas- 
tard child. ’ ” 

Then the Rouilhats made a combined as- 
sault all along the line. 

“It is sheer lunacy you meditate/^ they 
cried. “You cannot keep this unknown creat- 
ure here.’^ 

“You must send her back.’^ 

“What a scandal!’^ 

“The whole town will laugh at you.’^ 

“Anna, you do not love your child. You 
are a coward.” 

“Give the wretched creature money and 
send her away — anywhere, away from Nou- 
tron.” 

“Put her in a foundling asylum.” 

Anna besought them not to talk so loud. 

“She will hear you,” urged the young 
mother. 

“Hear us! She’s got to hear us,” exclaimed 
the exasperated pair. 

“Have you no heart— no compassion.?” 

“It is you who have no sense,” cried her 
father, “in daring to take into your house the 
child of you know not whom — some street- 
walker, perhaps.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


51 


After awhile the tempest subsided some- 
what. The mayor of Saint-Front lit his pipe 
and turning to his son-in-law said in a more 
moderate tone: 

‘‘See here, Chazeau, you are a hard-work- 
ing, honest man, I know. And you have no 
fault to find with us. We have kept all our 
promises to you. We have given you — ” 

“A wife whom I love and respect and ven- 
erate.’^ 

“Anna’s marriage portion was — ” 

“Paid in full. It has never been touched.” 

“Just so. Now we do not expect to live 
forever. We shall leave behind us eight fine 
farms and a few francs of ready money. You 
have much to expect from us.” 

“Oh, do not let us speak of those things,” 
interrupted Anna. “Louis works and we are 
quite rich enough.” 

“I wish,” continued her father, doggedly, “to 
define our respective situations with relation 
to each other. It appears, then,- according to 
Monsieur Chazeau’s own confession, that he 
has nothing to complain of so far as our treat- 
ment of him is concerned. I will say frankly 


52 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


that until to-day Monsieur Chazeau has ever 
shov^n himself worthy of our confidence.’’ 

“Please come to the point,” urged the law- 
yer, seeing his father-in-law about to launch 
into an oration. “My clients are waiting for 
me.” 

“The point is this, son-in-law: When you 
were a bachelor you got into some entangle- 
ments. I myself, when I was young — ” 

“What’s that .^” exclaimed Madame Rouil- 
hat. 

“What I would say,” pursued her husband, 
noticing the danger signal and sheering off, 
“is that marriage passes the sponge across the 
errors of youth. You have had an affair down 
in Paris. It is finished and you are safely 
married. If the other down there has a child 
it is not your affair. You know, sir attorney, 
that French law does not permit the father to 
be sought after in cases like that.” 

“Then do you think,” interposed Anna, 
“that a father ought to let his natural children 
starve. 

“Starve! Haven’t they arms and legs and 
heads like other people.!’ Let them work. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


53 


And, besides, does a man ever know whether 
he is the true father, in such a case ?” 

At this, Chazeau started to his feet, pale 
with anger. 

“I can tell you,’’ he said, “here in Anna’s 
presence, that Colette’s mother was a virtuous 
woman.” 

“A student’s mistress, virtuous! Oh, come, 
come 1” 

“Yes, virtuous and loyal.” 

“Why did you leave her then.^”’ 

“Why.^ Because the world — ” 

Here the lawyer stopped suddenly. He 
owed no one an explanation of his conduct, 
he said to himself. Besides, he ought not, in 
his wife’s presence, to express vain regrets for 
the past. 

“My poor Chazeau,” here broke in Madame 
Honorine, “your Dulcinea has evidently 
amused you with fairy tales. This Colette does 
not look in the least like you. She has neither 
your hair nor your eyes, while Renee — ” 

“Colette is my daughter, I tell you.” 

Chazeau was about to add: “Anna is your 
daughter, and, heaven be praised, she does 


54 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


not resemble you at all, either in person or 
disposition.” But this species of argument 
did not seem to the lawyer to be in the best 
taste, so he contented himself with saying: 

‘‘Anna is the mistress here. My mother, 
whom you just now accused, has done her 
best to persuade my wife that she ought not 
to take the poor child. We foresaw that you 
would object, but we did not think you would 
insult us. If Anna wishes it, I will send Co- 
lette away. Think, Anna, and tell me what 
I must do.” 

“I have thought seriously and long on this 
subject. I will keep Colette.” 

At this, Chazeau left the room, followed by 
Madame Clorinde. When they were gone, her 
father, adopting the wheedling, coaxing tone, 
which he was wont to use with those who 
came to buy goods from him, opened upon the 
poor creature the floodgates of his formidable 
eloquence. He reminded her of the filial re- 
spect she owed her parents and spoke of the 
affection he had for Renee, the legitimate 
child, whom this stranger was about to rob of 
part of her mother’s love and necessarily of 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


55 


part of her fortune. To all of which Madame 
Chazeau replied that she would love her 
daughter as much in the future as in the past 
and that Renee would suffer in no respect 
from the orphan’s advent; one day she would 
inherit the entire fortune of the family. As 
for Colette, her father would save for her a 
modest dowry out of the monies coming from 
his profession. At this the old gentleman lost 
his temper entirely. 

‘‘You are robbing our grandchild,” he cried, 
rising and taking his hat and stick. “But you 
shan’t rob us. We’ll give our money to other 
heirs. Good-bye to you.” 

“You ought to be spanked,” screamed 
Madame Honorine, fairly’ shaking her fist in 
her daughter’s face, as she followed her hus- 
band out of the room and the house. 

Monsieur and Madame Rouilhat gossiped, 
that day at the fair, to such good purpose 
that, by evening, the news was all over town. 

It was the talk of the court-house, of the 
club, of the Cafe de la Rotunde, of the draw- 
ing-rooms and even of the neighboring farm- 
houses. Men spoke harshly of the conduct of 


56 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


the young attorney —not of his past conduct, 
of the error of his youth, but of the scandalous 
reparation he was now endeavoring to make. 
The ladies of the town worked themselves up 
into a tremendous state of virtuous indignation 
and declared that they would drop Madame 
Chazeau’s acquaintance, that they would have 
nothing to do with a woman who permitted 
her home to be polluted by the presence of a 
street-child, whose sin, in being born at all, 
was so great that it was doubtful if there were 
salvation for her, even in the arms of the Re- 
deemer. 


CHAPTER IV 


Thirteen years have passed and Colette and 
Renee are now young ladies. Both are pretty, 
but of quite different types of beauty. Blonde 
and of medium height, like her mother, slender, 
with a pink and white complexion, with 
golden hair, worn in a curly bang over the 
temples, a charming mouth, blue eyes with 
long lashes and milk-white eyelids, such was 
Renee Chazeau in the bloom of her seventeen 
years. Colette Dumonteil was twenty. While 
her sister was lively, giddy, careless and im- 
pulsive, Colette was grave and gentle, with 
her tall, elegantly turned figure, her profile 
like that on a Greek coin, her thick, dark hair 
worn in smooth bandeaux, her pure white 
brow, her deep, black eyes and the sad, sweet 
smile which so often lighted her expressive 
face. Renee delighted in toilettes that attracted 
attention; Colette’s gowns were invariably of 
simple make and somber color. They had 


58 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

grown up together under the tender care of 
the attorney and his wife and of Madame 
Clorinde, who insisted that Colette should also 
call her “Grandmamma.’^ 

Colette had been sent as a day scholar to 
the establishment of the Bardet ladies. As 
soon as Renee was old enough, she had ac- 
companied her sister. The younger child soon 
devoloped a jealous disposition and it was one 
of her chief delights to tease and hector the 
other in some such fashion as this: 

“Me, my name is Renee Chazeau. But you 
are only Colette — not Chazeau. Colette is the 
only name you have got. My papa is your 
papa, but my mamma is not your mamma.” 

“Who told you that.^” the older girl would 
ask in a heart-broken tone. 

“Oh, some of the big girls at school. You 
haven’t got any mamma.” 

“My mother is dead.” 

“Ah-ha. They say — ” 

“Well, what do they say.?” 

“They say your mother ran away from you; 
that papa picked you up in Paris and brought 
you home out of charity; that your mother 
was a bad woman.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


59 


“It is not true! It is not true!’’ 

One evening, as they were coming out of 
school, some of the larger girls surrounded 
Colett^ and began to abuse and maltreat her, 
jeering at her because of her birth, and insult- 
ing the memory of her mother with the coarse 
language they had heard at home. Renee 
looked on complacently while her sister de- 
fended herself as well as she could from these 
attacks, which were not unaccompanied by 
physical violence. That evening Colette got 
home, pale as a sheet, with her dress torn, 
her hair all pulled down, sobbing with anger 
and shame, but less sorrowful on account of 
the insults of the other children than because 
of the sneering laugh of her little sister. 

As the young orphan grew up she became 
more and more humble and self-sacrificing. 
She dreaded lest she might seem to arrogate 
to herself something in this household where, 
after all, she knew she had no legal rights^ 
When Renee would climb into her father’s 
lap and the lawyer would cover her face with 
kisses, Colette would steal away, happy if she 
received from her father a smile or a caressing 
look. 


6o 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


When Madame Chaze'au considered the sub- 
ject of their wardrobe, Colette would beg for 
the simplest things for fear that she might 
awaken her little sister’s jealousy, ^he urged 
that the clothes of richer material did not suit 
her and she felt uncomfortable in them. 

The newspapers of the town printed weekly 
the names of the prize winners at the Bardet 
school. Colette’s name always stood at the 
head of the list but poor little Renee’s never 
appeared. The little girl began to fret and 
fume at this, whereupon Colette took meas- 
ures to prevent her own name appearing in 
the list. 

But these instances of delicate feeling were 
all thrown away upon Renee, who continued to 
plague and humiliate her sister whenever she 
could find an opportunity. In the evenings she 
would so conduct herself by word and gesture, 
seen and heard by Colette alone, that the 
latter was glad to seek refuge in the kitchen 
with the servants. 

‘‘Where are you going her father would 
sometimes ask. 

“I’m going to help Margaret with the chest- 
nuts. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 6l 

Anna would say, ‘‘Margaret, Fer- 
dinand and Marietta can attend to the chest- 
nuts. They don’t need you.^’ 

“Stay with us, Colette,’^ Madame Clorinde 
would urge. 

“What do you want to prevent her go- 
ing to the kitghen for.^^’^ Renee would sneer- 
ingly ask. “Mademoiselle prefers the kitchen- 
folk to us, evidently.” 

It was now the end of the spring season of 
1877. During the thirteen years which had 
passed since the advent of the orphan child in- 
to the Chazeau household, the little town of 
Noutron, which after all is not so bad a little 
town, had forgotten the harsh and unkind 
things it had said and thought at the time. 
Society had reinstated the attorney’s wife in 
its good graces. The members of the bar of 
Noutron, who thirteen years before had anim- 
adverted so strongly against the scandal Cha- 
zeau was bringing into their midst, and had in 
consequence given him the cold shoulder, were 
now only too proud to clasp the hand of the 
man who had become their leader. 

Chazeau had in 1870 been a captain of mi- 


62 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


litia and had fought bravely at the battle of 
Coulmiers, vv^here fifty-two of his men had lost 
their lives. He, himself, had been wounded 
in the left leg by the bursting of a shell and 
ever since had limped perceptibly. For his 
conduct during the war he had been awarded 
the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, which he 
now wore with the dignity and modesty which 
distinguished his life in other respects. 

Colette was the joy and pride of the Cha- 
zeau family. The Rouilhats themselves had 
softened toward her. Madame Honorine was 
never tired of recalling the time when she, 
stricken by a grave contagious disease, which 
had nearly been the death of her, had been 
nursed back to hope and life by the hitherto 
despised Parisian. 

“She is a plucky young woman, Monsieur 
Leander had declared with conviction on this 
occasion. 

So, by patience and courage, the orphan 
had succeeded in persuading the world in 
which she lived that she might be forgiven 
for her shameful origin. W^hen the two girls 
were seen together in public they were spoken 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 63 

of as ^‘the Chazeau girls,” which was a great 
comfort to Colette and caused the future to 
look less gloomy to her. But Renee was eaten 
up by jealousy, that miserable instinct which 
dominates weak souls, sometimes driving them 
even to the commission of crime. Deep in her 
soul she entertained the conviction that her 
parents loved Colette more than they loved 
her and she never ceased to think of the time 
when she might be able to drive this stranger 
from her home. She loved to make sugges- 
tions like the following, which she knew were 
as gall and wormwood to poor Colette’s soul. 

“You know, my dear Colette,” she would 
sigh, “that we are not very well off. Our lands 
don’t bring in much rent, now that the phyl- 
loxera have got into the vineyards. Papa 
works hard, but it is difficult to collect fees 
just now, I know.” 

Whereupon Colette would murmur with a 
sinking heart: 

“I think I will try and earn my own living. 
I can get a teacher’s position. I don’t want 
to be a burden.” 

“Well, that is not a bad idea. Remember 
your dignity is at stake.” 


64 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


Don’t you think you are a little hard on 
me, Renee?’'* 

Anna and Madame Clorinde did their best 
to protect the orphan from Renee’s brutal and 
fantastic hostility. They declared there was no 
reason why Colette should be a school-teacher 
or go into any other employment. She would 
marry some day and then all would be well. 
If they ever undertook to cite Colette as an 
example of good behavior, which it would be 
well for Renee to imitate, the latter would 
stamp her foot in anger and cry: 

^‘Oh, Colette this and Colette that. I hear 
nothing but Colette. It’s disgusting!” 

Once when there was to be a grand ball at 
the house of the receiver of finances and 
Madame Chazeau spoke of taking both the 
girls, Renee declared: 

“If Colette goes, I shall not, that’s flat.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I should be ashamed.” 

“Of your sister?” 

“Yes.” 

“You wicked, wicked girl! Aren’t you 
ashamed of yourself. If your father knew — ” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


65 


‘‘He would send me away. Very well, send 
me away. Am I your daughter or not? Tell 
me that. And she, is she your daughter?'^ 

“I love you both.” 

“You have no right to love her.” 

Her mother, a woman as devoted to well- 
doing as she was impotent to put down wrong- 
doing, suffered in silence. As for Chazeau, 
he was too much immersed in his law busi- 
ness to be able to learn anything of the storm 
that was brewing around his hearth-stone. 

Sometimes Renee would take fits of being 
conscience-smitten and would express great 
contrition for her evil conduct. She would 
humbly beg pardon of her mother, her grand- 
mother and her abused sister. She would be 
very kind and amiable to the latter until some 
new whim aroused the bitterness of her ha- 
tred. Colette, for her part, set herself reso- 
lutely to the task of conquering the affection 
of the capricious child. 

By and by the marriage of Mademoiselle 
Chazeau with a young lawyer of Noutron, 
Monsieur Gabriel Lagrange, began to be 
bruited among the gossips of the city. At the 
5 


66 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


ball of the receiver of finances young Lagrange 
had been very devoted. On their return 
from the ball, the two girls — for Colette had 
gone after all — who occupied the same cham- 
ber, had talked over their impressions. Renee 
had danced a good deal with a certain hand- 
some young man by whom she had been greatly 
charmed. 

“What a heavenly waltzer the count is, she 
sighed. “He is so graceful and elegant, too, 
don’t you think But you hardly danced at 
all. Why didn’t you 

“I preferred to talk to Monsieur Lagrange.” 

“The lawyer.^ Not much fun in him, is 
there 

“He admires you extravagantly.” 

“Poor fellow!” 

All night long, Renee dreamed of her part- 
ner in the waltz, young Count Paul de Bres- 
sieres, who was a country neighbor of her 
grandfather. Monsieur Rouilhat. From the 
windows of his house at Saint-Front, the Bres- 
sieres chateau was plainly visible. It was a fine 
old manor-house, which she delighted to peo- 
ple with heroic men and women out of her own 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


67 


imagination. The young lady was fond of ro- 
mances and devoured many a novel in secret. 
She liked to read about lovely chatelaines, 
all robed in white, waiting upon their lords and 
masters; of their grand hunts in which might 
be heard the galloping of horses, the baying of 
hounds, and the winding of horns, as the cav- 
aliers and their ladies swept by; and of their 
baronial halls in which they stood receiving 
the homage of prostrate throngs of serfs. And 
now she loved to think of these fancy-pictures 
of life as actually taking place in the lordly 
mansion of the Bressieres; a mansion upon 
which, by the way, her old grandfather, 
Rouilhat, had long had his calculating and 
covetous eye. She compared the luxurious 
existence of the nobleman with the poor, com- 
monplace life of Gabriel Lagrange, and then 
her spirits began to droop as she reflected up- 
on the immense social distance between the 
Bressieres family and her own. Never, she 
feared, would she arrive at the height of her 
desires and hear herself called countess. Still 
she could not help remembering how devoted 
the young count had been at the ball. There 


68 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


had been almost a passionate pressure of his 
arm as he held her in the w^altz, which had 
thrilled all through her body. She wished 
that he might become poor. She was rich and 
her fortune might be used to regild his es- 
cutcheon. That sort of thing happened every 
day in France. Perhaps it might happen to 
her. 

Every Saturday, Count Paul rode into Nou- 
tron mounted on a beautiful black horse. He 
came to visit his cousins, the Mareuils, who 
lived next door to the Chazeaus. Renee knew 
that he reached the house about nine o’clock 
and on Saturday mornings she watched eagerly 
from behind the curtains of the dining-room 
for the appearance of the familiar figure. She 
would maneuver to be left alone on these 
mornings so that nothing might distract her 
attention and cause her, perchance, to miss 
seeing the count. If she failed to see him she 
would be cross for the whole day. Sometimes 
she thought, with a feeling of joy, that the 
count, ordinarily so distant in his manner, 
was becoming more familiar with her father 
when the two met on the street. He would 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


69 


inquire after the health of the ladies of the 
lawyer’s family and beg the latter to present 
his compliments to them. The count was of 
different politics from the lawyer, being a 
legitimist while Chazeau was a republican. 
But opposing political views did not prevent 
his being very friendly with the lawyer as with 
others of the leading citizens. 

Presently the count’s aunt, Madame Mar- 
eiul, came to call on the Chazeau ladies. She 
was soon after followed by the count himself. 
Renee had expected that he would visit their 
house in course of time but had been consid- 
erably disappointed that he had put off calling 
for so long. When he finally came, she man- 
aged so as to have Colette away from the 
house. After he had gone she could not con- 
ceal her satisfaction and pride. 

“What a noble gentleman,” she exclaimed, 
enthusiastically. 

“Didn’t you think his talk was rather friv- 
olous.^” asked her mother. 

“Oh, no.” 

“Monsieur Lagrange, I think — ” 

“You aren’t going to compare that young 


70 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


lawyer, Lagrange, with a gentleman of birth 
like Count de Bressieres 

‘‘Monsieur Lagrange is a worthy young man 
who has intelligence.’’ 

“But he is so commonplace.” 

“Renee, you do not imagine that Monsieur 
de Bressieres is coming here with any serious 
motives, do you.^” 

“Mamma, I do not permit myself to im- 
agine anything.” 

“He only called out of politeness.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Renee, you are blushing. My child, you 
must not get foolish notions into your head.” 

Later, Colette took Madame Chazeau aside. 

“May I,” she began, in an anxious tone, 
“speak to you about a thing which is no busi- 
ness of mine but which concerns your happi- 
ness very closely.^” 

“Yes, Colette. Speak.” 

“I have been watching Renee very closely 
lately and I can’t help seeing that she is get- 
ting ideas into her head which were better not 
there.” 

“You refer to Monsieur de Bressieres, do 
you not?” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


71 


“Yes, madame. Ever since the ball I have 
been worried about my sister. If she could 
only bring herself to think of Monsieur Ga- 
briel Lagrange. He is just the husband for 
her. I know he could and would make her 
happy. But the count — ’’ 

“Will make her unhappy.^’’ 

“I fear so.’’ 

“But he has not offered himself as a suitor.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad.” 

Then Colette began to speak rapidly, as if 
she were desirous of getting something off her 
mind. 

“You will pardon me, I know,” she said, 
“if what I say to you sounds a little imperti- 
nent. It comes from my heart. You have 
done so much for me that I want to try and 
do something for you.” 

“Dear girl! What do you know of Monsieur 
de Bressieres.^” 

“Monsieur Rouilhat knows him and his fam- 
ily well.” 

“Yes. The de Bressieres are our neighbors 
at Saint-Front. I never saw Monsieur Paul 
out in the country. His father and mother 


72 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

were rather haughty, I remember, but the 
marchioness was a very charitable woman. 

“Monsieur Rouilhat says — ’’ 

“Oh, father dislikes the nobility, I know. 
What does he say.^” 

“He says that the Bressieres are ruining 
themselves and that Monsieur Paul has alto- 
gether too luxurious tastes. He is looking out 
for the chateau — 

“The dear old revolutionist. He has his 
eye on all the chateaux. But you are right. 
We must be careful. Your sister is getting 
more and more interested every day.” 

“Hush! Here she is. Fm going to put in a 
word for Monsieur Lagrange. Renee, see 
here.” 

“What do you wish.^” 

“Come out doors with me, Fwant to talk 
to you.” 

“You and mamma are hatching some plot 
between you,” said Renee, looking suspiciously 
at them. 

“We are plotting for your happiness, dear,” 
said the mother, indulgently. 

Renee followed her sister out of the room. 








V ' 


' "'■ i^'*’^'* I'K.' •■' ' 

^■' ■ ^' ry'kr/ r:.>:-' 


%: 




fcis‘*i'!’'vi'5:j*{VA‘, S' 


• - • . ■.'•< .;,■*. . 




♦ ■ 


L'O 


— ' *TV^ ' 






' i ■ ^ 


„,T 

peL-.'t r. ■■ '■" 

-/i.J ^ .• (tf 






>ui\ 


f ;; "if .a,''^ 



v> 


** 'i} * 


j - »■ ■ V -‘.41 










•1' . -s^.wurrvvijfiiyi'il. f'r . > 









f / 1’* 


*,tvi ^ ■* 




toC >* ■. '“^ 






*M ’k 


-.V 




'ill it 


M. 



iCJi 


f/^: 


' cj 


I V 


fcv I, 




5#: 










■%LJf 










S- * - - V a;* ' "4^ : ■>■ 





■ry/A\if\ 


fe 


V.- 



/ • J li* -• 





(4 


a*. I 


- • t 


X 







*r' 


^'' r’«f- •! J 




if;. 


1 *‘-S “ 4 f* 


UbJ 


<^4- 

^ .. . .. I ^ ri. . . ••_ 


<V 







I 




I MEAN THAT YOU ARE A MONSTER OF JEALOUSY, AND THAT I HATE YOU.” 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


73 


The two girls went into the garden. After a 
few moments of conversation the younger 
girl turned upon Colette and looking at her 
with a spiteful gleam in her cold, blue eyes 
said: 

understand your game perfectly. It is 
quite unnecessary for you to wear your mask 
any longer.’’ 

'‘Renee! What do you mean.^”’ 

“I mean that you are a monster of jealousy 
and that I hate you.” 


CHAPTER V 

In Perigord, and especially in the neighbor- 
hood of Noutron, the land is becoming more 
and more divided into small peasant holdings. 
The old feudal dwellings are falling into decay 
and gradually disappearing under the influence 
of storm and wind and partly also under bjow 
of pick and shovel. No one dare buy them, 
for the expense of maintaining them is too 
great for any but the most princely purses. 
So the stones that formerly were part of the 
walls of some old feudal castle you may now 
see, cleaned and scoured, in those of a dozen 
little red-roofed cottages. Where the great 
parks were are now copses of carefully trimmed 
trees and the green meadow grass waves over 
what were once ornamental ponds. The 
building material crumbles away or is used for 
other purposes. The iron-work of some old 
crypt-grating does duty on ten barn doors. 
The frame-work of a tower furnishes the wood 
74 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


15 


for twenty roofs, and one big chimney contains 
all the bricks used in an entire farm-house. 

Old Leander Rouilhat is the principal de- 
spoiler of the old chateaux of the neighbor- 
hood. He creeps upon them, first with a mort- 
gage, then a foreclosure, and finally a sale. 

At the sound of his penetrating voice the old 
turrets seem to shake to their foundations and 
on the land of one big estate arise fences 
enough to enclose a thousand small ones. In 
this way he has appropriated the castle and de- 
mesne of the Rochefoucaulds, of LaRenaudie, 
rhe famous conspirator of Amboise, and many 
others. The only one that remains standing 
in the whole country-side is the chateau of 
the de Bressieres and even this has lost one 
of its towers. Its big black shadow against 
the western sky still remains to exaspi^ate 
Monsieur Rouilhat. Every morning as the 
old gentleman surveys it from his dining-room 
window he snarls: “Ah, there you are still, 
eh.^ Never mind; I’ll have you down one of 
these days.’^ 

The big house is surrounded by wide mead- 
ows, woods, ponds and an amphitheater of 


76 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


hills on which the vine grows verdant every 
spring and golden every fall. 

The marquis and marchioness have but one 
child, Count Paul, who has just arrived at his 
twenty-third year. The young man has been 
educated at the Jesuit college at Sarlat and 
after a year’s military service in the seventh 
regiment of dragoons has come back to Peri- 
gord to live. From time to time he goes up to 
Paris, especially during the races, and always 
comes back with the desire strong within 
him to have his parents take up their residence 
in Paris — a desire which the old people reso- 
lutely refuse to satisfy. 

“When you get married,” the marquis says, 
“you may go to Paris to live if you like. But 
your mother and I are quite contented where 
we are. We don’t care to move, thank you.” 

The Marquis Raymond de Bressieres is a tall, 
thin, pleasant-faced gentleman, with a gray 
beard which he keeps carefully trimmed. He 
is dignified looking and bears himself with the 
aristocratic air that bespeaks the vieille roche. 
He looks as if his proper place were up in 
one of the picture frames beside his ancestors. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


77 


He is one of those placidly proud old royalists 
who prefer to look at life from a distance rather 
than live it at first hand; who got along with 
the Empire and are getting along with the Re- 
public; and who, without doing anything to 
precipitate it, are calmly looking forward to the 
time when the world shall come under their 
dominion again. 

The marquis made no visits, but spent the 
most of his time walking, driving, reading and 
dreaming. His wife, Marchioness Aline, erect 
and stately, still beautiful despite the silver 
threads that were increasing in her fair hair, 
was a perfect type of the patrician French 
woman. She occupied, herself with the house- 
hold government and with charitable works. 
And so the two lived their simple country 
life, reverently and piously, as became two 
old aristocrats who had nothing to do but 
to await the coming of the night. 

After his' return to the chateau. Count 
Paul, who loved pleasure and had lived a 
pretty gay life at Paris when his regiment had 
been stationed at Versailles, projected some 
entertainments to which he invited the neigh- 


78 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


boring gentry and their ladies. But he was not 
long in wearying of dinners with rural squires 
where he always saw the same faces and 
heard the same talk. Then he got up some 
wolf-hunts and boar-hunts. He might be 
seen almost any day on some portion of the 
estate with his gun in his hands and a pointer 
or two at his heels. Occasionally he diverted 
himself with some mild flirtation with a farm- 
er’s daughter. But this was tame sport to the 
count and generally resulted in his getting dis- 
gusted with the country and all that pertained 
thereto, and going up to Paris for a little dis- 
sipation that was more to his taste. 

Paul de Bressieres was a large, handsome 
young man with a complexion of marble pale- 
ness, an aquiline nose, fair, curly hair, dark, 
fierce eyes, that took a caressing expression 
when he talked to women, and a laughing 
mouth shaded by a silky, brown mustache. 
He was the heir of a great fortune and was 
looking forward to some great marriage worthy 
of his birth and fortune, when Renee Chazeau 
crossed his path. At once he had fallen des- 
perately in love with her, subjugated by the 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


79 


first sincere passion of his life. He was quite 
aware of the tremendous obstacles that lay in 
his path should he endeavor to realize his 
dreams. But his brave, undisciplined nature 
determined to overcome them, cost what it 
might. 

He was much beloved in the village be- 
cause of his generosit}^; and he was not a little 
hated also on account of his way of riding 
rough-shod over those who got in his way. 
The country people told an anecdote of him 
which well illustrated his contempt for dan- 
ger and for the lives of others. It had occurred 
three years previously, at the end of. the 
month of September, just before vintage time. 
For several days he had ridden with his pack 
of hounds, despite the protests of the farmers, 
straight through their vineyards, where but 
few of the vines had been spared by the phyl- 
loxera. One morning, the farmers got to- 
gether, armed with mattocks and scythes, and 
determined to stop him. The count, as he 
rode up, saw them some distance away. He 
drew his horse in a few feet from them, and, 
unslinging his carbine from his shoulder, took 
aim, saying: 


8o 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“Disperse, you loafers, or I’ll lay out two 
of you/^ 

The threat was sufficient to dampen the 
courage of the peasants, who forthwith de- 
camped in all directions. That same day Paul 
might have been seen in the village, shaking 
hands with the men, giving money to the chil- 
dren, and kissing the pretty girls. No one 
seemed to take it amiss of the cordial, gener- 
ous-hearted young fellow that he had been a 
few hours before ready to slaughter them like 
wild beasts. He promised, however, not to 
hunt any more until after the harvest and kept 
his word. 

Monsieur Leander Rouilhat, less needy and 
so less servile than his neighbors, was greatly 
enraged when he heard of this performance of 
the young count. 

“You are a lot of cowards,” he had ex- 
claimed to the farmers. “Was there no revo- 
lution of ’89, then.? Is there no Code.? Are not 
the laws made as much for those who suffer 
as for those who enjoy.? Let him cross my 
fields once, and by thunder, we’ll see what 
will happen.” 



i « 


DISPERSE, YOU LOAFERS, OR TlL LAY OUT TWO OF YOU.” 




THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 8l 

One morning Count Paul drove to Thiviers 
to meet one of his old regimental friends, 
Baron Leonce de Verdac, who was coming on a 
visit to the chateau. On their way home, the 
young men reviewed their garrison memories 
together and Bressieres tormented his friend 
with questions, with the persistency that might 
be expected from a provincial, who yet has 
been initiated into the life of Paris, when he 
meets a new arrival from the city, one who 
yesterday rode in the Bois and dined on the 
Boulevard, who brings the latest gossip of the 
drawing-rooms and clubs. 

The family received the visitor cordially. 
He was assigned the room which adjoined 
Paul’s — a handsome apartment whose high 
windows overlooked a beautiful country. It 
was very much to the baron’s taste and he 
straightway began to feel at home. 

“Dear Leonce,^^ said Paul, “I’ll do my best 
to make you have a good time.’* 

“Oh, I shall enjoy myself.” 

“Truly.?” 

“Why of course. Don’t you?” 

“Sometimes.” 


6 


82 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


^^Are you in love?” asked Verdac, abruptly. 

^‘Almost,” was the somewhat awkward re- 
sponse. 

“Married woman?” 

“No.” 

“Do you mean marriage?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Am I asking too many questions?” 

“No. But nothing is decided. My parents 
know nothing, as yet.” 

“Well, you know me. Tm silent as the 
grave. You can trust me if you want to talk.” 

“Thanks. Later on I’ll tell you.” 

Then, by way of changing the conversation, 
he exclaimed: 

“Oh, Leonce, you don’t know what hunting 
you missed by not being here last winter. 
Come, I must show you my dogs. Have a 
cigar?” 

Linking arms, the two young fellows went 
out to the offices of the chateau. 

Baron de Verdac was a colossus, larger 
even than Monsieur Rouilhat and better built, 
with the shoulders of a prize-fighter. His black 
hair was almost kinky, there was a deep scar 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


83 


across his swarthy face, and he had long, 
curling, brown mustaches. He said he was 
born in the West Indies and was a de- 
scendant of some former negro king. He got 
his title of baron from his father, who had 
been a general under the first empire. He 
was now dressed all in blue and wore a trav- 
eling hat. His clothes were new, which was 
accounted for by the following facts. 

‘‘What have you been doing since our gar- 
rison days.?” Paul had asked him one day the 
summer before when he had met Leonce on 
the boulevard in Paris. 

“Oh, having a good time,” the other had 
answered jauntily. 

The young count had been satisfied with 
this answer, the more so because Verdac did 
not offer to borrow money from him as he had 
usually done in the old garrison days. Then 
the baron had explained that he was employed 
in the service of a curb-stone broker. But this 
was not the fact. The truth was that Verdac 
was at that time living gratis at the table of 
a gambling hell, the proprietors of which felt 
kindly disposed toward the needy gentleman. 


84 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


They had use sometimes for the giant and 
athlete, who was also known to be hand in 
glove with some influential newspaper men. 
He was hail-fellow well met with the habitues 
of the place and his name and title sounded 
well to new pigeons who were to be plucked. 
But one day the police closed the place and 
after that the poor gentleman had a hard 
time, wandering about Paris like a lost 
soul on the hither side of Styx. He obtained 
a precarious existence by acting as second 
in duels; and he was even thought to have a 
more dubious means of livelihood. He was 
beginning to be in a very bad way indeed 
when it occurred to him to write to his friend 
de Bressieres for aid. Thanks to the five 
hundred francs which Paul sent him, he had 
been enabled to indulge in a new outfit of 
clothes, and now here he was down at the 
chateau, a little thin indeed, but determined 
to fatten up again as soon as possible. 

The mulatto was a good talker and before 
long all the inhabitants of the chateau, mas- 
ters and servants alike, were charmed by his 
cleverness. Before three weeks had passed, 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


85 


the fastidious old marquis had been com- 
pletely captured by the big fellow and even the 
marchioness cited him as a pattern to her son. 
Leonce was shrewd enough to see that re - 
ligion was oneof his cues while at the chateau. 
So he got up early every morning and os- 
tentatiously escorted the mistress to church, 
leaving Paul asleep in bed until the hour of 
breakfast. The men-servants were won over 
by the numerous cigars given them by the 
new arrival — cigars to which, it is needless to 
say, the baron helped himself out of Paul’s 
boxes. Never before had Ambrose, the 
coachman, and Clarot, the groom, smoked 
so much. 

The old comrades in arms took a ride to- 
gether nearly every day. As they rode up the 
village street, many glances of admiration 
were cast at the soldierly figure of the 
mulatto. The rosy-cheeked farmers’ daughters 
glanced at each other mischievously, saying 
as the baron passed: 

‘^A fine sprig of a fellow, eh, my dear.^^” 

“He must be the son of some big grenadier.” 

“Oh, no, he is of noble blood.” 


86 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“If every Frenchman w^as built like that,” 
growled an old veteran of the first Napoleon’s 
wars, “the Prussians would not have had so 
easy a time with us.” 

Verdac always took pains to respond to the 
salutations of the country people and soon be- 
came very popular among them. Some of 
the peasants who were Bonapartists — a class 
who never can be made to believe in the death 
of the Prince Imperial — began to whisper it 
about that the baron was the prince in disguise. 

Under the baron’s influence Paul began 
to think less and less of Renee Chazeau. 

The two men visited at the houses of the 
neighboring gentry, the stranger everywhere 
winning golden encomiums. Garden parties, 
dinners, and balls followed each other in 
rapid succession at the chateau. 

“You have forgotten that nonsense you had 
in your head when I came, haven’t you, 
Paul.?” Leonce asked his friend one day. 

“Pretty much,” was the frank reply. 

“What was the poor girl’s name.?” 

“Oh, you don’t care to know.” 

“Yes. Perhaps I’ll marry her myself. Ah! 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


87 


you don’t like that. I see you’re not so 
thoroughly cured after all.’^ 

Several times the young men came to Nou- 
tron, where they dined with the Mareuils. 
After dinner Paul would lounge up the street, 
cigar in hand, ostentatiously paying no atten- 
tion to the neighboring house. But one even- 
ing on their return to the chateau he seemed 
more than usually excited. When they were 
alone together upstairs he said to the baron: 

“Leonce, did you happen to notice to-day 
a lovely, little, blonde head at the window of 
the house next to my aunt’s.^’ 

‘‘The lovely, little, blonde head of Made- 
moiselle Renee Chazeau.^ Yes, to be sure.^^ 
“Ah, then, you know my secret.?” 

“Bah! Everybody knows that you are in 
love with one of the pretty daughters of the 
leader of the Noutron bar. When did she 
hook you.?” 

But seeing that his friend did not like this 
expression, Leonce hastened to add: 

“She is very pretty, that little Chazeau 
girl.” 

“The beauty of youth, yes.” 


88 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“Sapristi! Hovv^ she did ogle you as we 
passed by. Paul, you are a great hypocrite. 
'You never turned a hair, or an eye-winker 
when that pretty white hand drew back the 
window curtain and those big black eyes — ’’ 

‘‘No — they are blue.” 

— “sparkled and softened at sight of you. 
And yet you are over head and heels in love 
with her, that’s plain.” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Shall you marry her 

“I don’t know.” 

“Bosh! What, a country lawyer’s daugh- 
ter.? If you want her, run away with her and 
set up a little establishment at Brantome, 
say — under the rose of course — but, as for 
marriage — ” 

“You don’t know what you are talking 
about,” interrupted Bressieres, roughly. 
“Mademoiselle Chazeau is not that kind of a 
person.” 

“Has she religious scruples.?” 

“No, she has self-respect.” 

“Oh, ho, my poor Paul, I’m afraid you are 
past cure, indeed.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


89 


Then Bressieres poured his whole heart out 
to his friend. He told him how he had done 
everything in his power to conquer his love 
but was now forced to confess that he had 
been conquered by it. He would marry Renee 
Chazeau at all hazards, but he knew how 
hostile would be his parents to what they re- 
garded as a mesalliance. Would not Leonce 
aid him to get the consent of his father and 
mother.^ 

The baron shook his head. 

“In love, eh.^^” he muttered musingly. 
“Was that the reason you slippped away the 
other day from your father and me when we 
were all together in Noutron.?’^ 

“Yes.’’ 

“Did you call on the young lady.^” 

No, I went to my aunt Mareuil’s.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“From her parlor windows I could watch 
Renee walking in the garden.” 

“Ho-ho! Why, you are as silly as a school- 
boy.” 

“Yes, I know. I suppose I am what is 
called love-sick. I stole out into my aunt’s 


90 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


garden and concealed myself behind a yew 
tree. On the other side of the garden-wall 
she was walking up and down. And she 
looked so pale, she, who is generally so bright 
and happy-lopking! Once I thought I heard 
her murmur my name. Oh, if it were possible 
that I could drive the look of care from that 
young face! You know, once after the ball 
at the receiver of finances where I met her, 
I called upon her with my cousins. Then 
people began to gossip about us and I hesi- 
tated to go there again. But now — 

“You will press your suit.^’^ 

“With all my might. 

“What will your father and mother say.^^ A 
pretty pickle you are getting yourself into.’’ 

“I am afraid so and I want your aid.” 

“To soften the blow, eh.?” 

“Yes, my dear Leonce.” 

Monsieur de Verdac became very grave. 

“I am only a stranger here,” he said im- 
pressively, “and very grateful for the hospi- 
tality that you and yours have shown to me. 

I would almost do anything to return to you 
a little of the kindness that has been heaped 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


91 


upon me here. And now that you have spoken 
so frankly to me I feel that I should be lack- 
ing in my duty both as friend and guest if I 
hesitated to say to you what I am going to 
say." 

“Speak." 

“This marriage cannot take place." 

“It shall." 

“Do not be foolish." 

“I love Renee, I tell you." 

“You scarcely know her." 

“I worship her." 

“Do not excite yourself, my dear Paul. 
Think of your father, that personification of 
honor, and your mother, whom you revere. 
Think of your ancestors. What a lowering of 
your family pride!" 

“I tell you she is worthy of me. I will marry 
her." 

“Very well, then. I must say, good-bye." 

“You will go away." 

“At once. Your people shall not accuse me 
of have encouraged you in yodr madness, by 
winking at it." 

Verdac was a clever actor and he felt that 


92 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


by taking this course he was not only strength- 
ening his moral hold on his young friend but 
also adding to his credit with the marquis and 
marchioness. He had measured and weighed 
all the chances beforehand, for he had long 
known that it was only a question of time for 
this confession to be made to him. He had 
figured out* of the complications that were 
about to ensue some very good opportunities 
for feathering his own nest. On the one hand, 
there was money to be got from Paul, if he 
should help him to overcome the objections of 
his parents. On the other hand, if Paul got 
tired of the fight, he, Leonce, might have the 
chance to make an advantageous marriage 
himself. And if Paul ran away with the girl, 
the baron saw no end to his pickings in the 
capacity of Pandarus to the young lovers. 
The mulatto earnestly hoped that an elope- 
ment would be the final outcome of the affair. 

At Paul’s earnest solicitation, Verdac con- 
sented to postpone his departure, but upon 
condition that his friend should make no at- 
tempt to enlighten his parents as to the state 
of his feelings until he, the baron, had first 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


93 


spied out the land. On that very evening 
while Paul was out in the park thinking of his 
love and sighing at the moon, the baron had 
a long talk with the marquis and marchioness 
about their son. 

‘^Rumors come to us from Noutron,” said 
the lady, “that Paul is secretly paying atten- 
tion to one of the Chazeau girls. We are 
not disposed to place much credence in the 
gossip. The Chazeau family is a very re- 
spectable one, we understand. But of course 
an alliance with the bourgeoisie is entirely 
out of the question for our son.” 

“You might add, my dear,” quoth the mar- 
quis, with some asperity, “that Paul disre- 
gards the duty he owes us. He has given 
grounds for the reports that are being spread 
about him. At the ball some time ago where 
he met Mademoiselle Chazeau he would dance 
with no one but her. The other afternoon he 
spent two hours hidden in his aunt’s garden 
at Noutron, like a lunatic, staring at the 
young lady, who was in her own garden on the 
other side of the fence. His aunt and cousins 
were very much put out about it. Paul’s non- 
sense must be put a stop to at once.” 


94 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


Then the marchioness appealed to Verdac 
for advice. The latter frankly confessed the 
confidence that had been given to him by their 
love-sick son and dwelt at length upon his 
own highly proper conduct and the good ad- 
vice he had given his friend on that occasion. 
He said he would make it the business of his 
life to watch over Paul, his brother in arms, 
and see that he entered into no rash engage- 
ment on account of this foolish love-affair. 
The two elders thanked their guest with tears 
in their eyes. 

“Marquis,’’ said the baron, “I think you 
had better leave this matter to me. The fact 
that Paul has said nothing to either of you, 
convinces me that he is really not so much in 
love after all. I shall be able to make him 
hear reason, I am sure. If you spoke to him 
he is such an impetuous fellow that I fear in 
his present state of mind he might do some- 
thing rash. But, as his intimate friend, I can 
get at him in a way that will not arouse his 
suspicions or hostility. I was going away, 
but if there is a chance to be useful to you, 
my dear friends, why, of course — ” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


95 


“Oh, don’t leave us,’’ cried the marchioness, 
earnestly. “I don’t know what we should do 
without you. I am sure Providence has sent 
you to our assistance.” 

Later in the evening the baron was sitting 
in his room smiling fondly at a bottle of 
brandy which he held in his hand preparatory 
to pouring out a drink. 

“Pretty well played,” he chuckled — he was 
already a trifle maudlin — “Here the old people 
already are begging me to stay. I don’t care 
now whether that fool Paul gets married or 
not. I’ll feather my nest either way. Mean- 
while I’m well lodged and fed here and the 
farmers’ daughters are buxom Leonce, my 
boy, here’s your health.” 

Then he drank himself drunk and went to 
bed. 


CHAPTER VI 


While Baron deVerdac was thus enacting 
the role of mentor at the Chateau de Bres- 
sieres, poor Renee was daily becoming more 
and more hopeless of ever wearing the coronet 
of a countess. She imagined that Colette was 
the obstacle that stood in the way of her hap- 
piness and so charged against that unhappy 
creature the misery of her restless days and 
sleepless nights. 

Some women never know rest in pursuing 
their desire for revenge when it has once taken 
possession of them. Renee was one of these. 
No matter how humbly Colette comported 
herself, she never could succeed in softening 
the blind fury of her sister toward her. 
Mademoiselle Chazeau — for Renee insisted on 
arrogating this title to herself — invented a 
thousand torments which she secretly em- 
ployed to drive poor Colette from the house. 
Sometimes one thing, sometimes another, 
90 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


97 


here a gibe, there some remark about the cost 
of living, or a sarcasm about Colette’s ap- 
pearance or dress. She invariably grew angry 
when the dressmaker sent in a bill for “goods 
furnished the Misses Chazeau.” She made 
the merchants open separate accounts, one 
with “Mademoiselle Renee Chazeau” and an- 
other with “Mademoiselle Colette Dumon- 
theil.^^ She took great delight in humiliating 
her sister in the presence of strangers. If any 
one asked her about Colette’s health she would 
answer stiffly, “Mademoiselle Dumontheil is 
well.” She would never be seen on the street 
with Colette, preferring to take Mariette when 
she went out to walk. 

Finally, feeling herself unable to bear her 
sister’s heartless conduct any longer, Mademoi- 
selle Dumontheil told her father that she was 
going away. Not being willing to subject her 
tormentor to the paternal wrath, which would 
surely have fallen upon Renee, had Monsieur 
Chazeau been aware of the real state of the 
case, she told him that she intended to become 
a teacher. But her father would listen to 
nothing of the sort. 

7 


98 


THE PERFUiME OF THE VIOLET 


“My dear,” he said, “I have worked for you 
all these years and you have now a very com- 
fortable marriage portion. You shall stay 
under my roof until you choose a husband.” 

And nothing could shake this resolution. 

It was about seven o’clock in the morning. 
A beam of sunlight shone through the curtains 
of blue and white silk that covered the win- 
dow of the chamber in which the two girls 
slept. By its dim light Colette was combing 
her long black hair before the glass of their 
dressing table. When this task was finished 
and the thick braids were securely bound about 
the small head, she moved softly about the 
room finishing her toilette. She kept very 
still for fear of waking her sister who was fast 
asleep in bed. Her face was wan and pale; 
there were dark rings under her eyes; her lips, 
usually so fresh and crimson, were white and 
parched; and there were deep lines in her 
forehead. These signs indicated the torture 
of soul through which the young woman was 
passing at the hands of her only sister. Pres- 
ently the latter called from the bed in a sleepy 
tone: 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


99 


^‘Colette!’’ 

“Yes, Renee/’ 

“Aren’t you finished dressing yet?” 

“I’m just going downstairs.” 

“Don’t go. I want to speak to you. Shut 
the door and come here.” 

Colette did as she was ordered. Renee 
looked up at her from her pillow through a 
tangle of yellow curls. A mocking smile 
came into her eyes as she saw the traces of 
suffering on her sister’s face. 

“Don’t tremble so,” she laughed. “I’m 
not going to beat you.” 

Then pointing to a chair, on which were 
huddled pell-mell her own dress, corsets, 
chemise, skirts and stockings, she said: 

“Throw those things on the floor and sit 
down.” 

But the orderly Colette brought another 
chair and seated herself in front of her sister. 

“It is rather dark,” she suggested, timidly, 
“shall I draw the curtains?” 

“If you choose. You big fool, you act as 
if I was going to kill you Oh, the sun hurts 
my eyes!” 


lOO 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘Shall I close the curtains again 

“Yes. No. Come here and listen to me.’^ 

As respectful in her manner as the most 
docile of servants, Mademoiselle Dumontheil 
seated herself and prepared to listen to Mad- 
emoiselle Chazeau. 

“Colette,” said the other, “you are not a 
bad sort of girl. I am sure you would be 
sorry to know that I was unhappy.” 

“I should be very sorry.” 

“Well, then, you must know that I am 
wretched. I hate my life. You alone can 
lead me back to hope.” 

“What must I do.^” 

“I trust I shall not hurt your feelings when 
I tell you.” 

“I am strong. Go on.” 

“For a long time I have want.ed to speak to 
you about this matter. I am in love. I love 
Monsieur de Bressieres. It is my secret pas- 
sion that has made me so captious and unjust 
to you of late. You will forgive me.^” 

“ Certainly. I could not bear malice against 
you, dear.” 

“Sister — ” 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


lOI 


“Oh, Renee, you don’t know how sweet it 
is to me to hear you say ‘sister. ’ 

Mademoiselle Chazeau smiled indulgently 
at the enthusiasm of the other. 

“Do you think Count Paul has ceased his 
attentions to me because he does not wish to 
marry the daughter of a bourgeois?'^ 

“Probably that is the reason.” 

“Maybe the insolence of Grandpa Rouilhat 
has had something to do with it.^’^ 

“I don’t think you , should accuse him of 
insolence. He is good, and brave, and wise.” 

“You flatter him.” 

“I respect him.” 

“That country bumpkin!” 

“He is kind and faithful to those he loves.” 

“Why don’t you get him to adopt you.'^ He 
is very rich.” 

“I am not here for the purpose of robbing 
you of your rights.” 

“Well, anyway, Count Paul has gone away, 
though I know he loves me. I know the rea- 
son why, too. It is not because of our ple- 
beian estate, or of grandpa’s bad manners. 
It is because of you.” 


102 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘What have I done?’^ 

“Nothing. It is because you exist. 

Then Renee sat bolt upright in bed and be- 
gan to labor with her sister. She did not 
want Colette to go away for good, she said, 
but would she not take herself off for just a 
few months.^ She teased her sister in a cun- 
ning, caressing way of which she well knew 
the power, while every word she spoke pierced 
the orphan’s breast like a spear. 

“You see, sister, your position in the house- 
hold is such an anomalous one. And the 
nobility have so many scruples.’’ 

“Do you really thinb it is this that bars 
your way to happiness 

“Well, you can see for yourself.” 

“When must I go away?” said Colette, ris- 
ing. 

“As soon as possible.” 

“I will see the superintendent of schools 
myself and get a place as teacher at once.” 

“But that will take time. There is not al- 
ways a vacancy.” 

“I dare not speak to — to your father— 
about it again. He will not listen to me. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


103 


And I have no money. It would be terrible 
— to find myself — all alone — in the streets of 
Paris — without any money. If I should be 
unable to get any work what would become of 
me.?’^ 

Mademoiselle Dumontheil let these words 
drop slowly as if speaking to herself. Her 
poor lips trembled slightly as if she were 
struggling with a strong desire to give way to 
tears. Renee stretched herself out luxuriously 
under the soft bed-coverings, and proceeded 
affably. 

“I shall never forget the sacrifice you are 
making for my sake, dear. When I am 
Countess de Bressieres you shall come to see 
me at the chateau and at Paris, for I think the 
count will make up his mind to live in Paris. 
I will charge myself with the task of explain- 
ing your abrupt departure to my parents. 
You may write me from time to time. I 
will tell my father — let me see, what shall I 
tell my father.?” 

“You may tell our father — for he is mine 
as well as yours — that I have gone to Paris 
to work, and to live an honest life. Under- 


104 PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

stand— an honest life. In a week I shall have 
left Noutron.’’ 

‘‘Do you promise? Will you swear?’^ 

“I swear by the Virgin.” 

Colette went out of the room rather hastily. 
For a long time she stood in the hallway lean- 
ing against the wall, and weeping bitterly. 
Then she went into the garden and bathed 
her eyes with water from the fountain. 


CHAPTER VII 


One morning, Paul, after a stormy inter- 
view with his parents on the subject of his 
matrimonial intentions, departed in a rage and 
rode into Noutron. Leonce, more than ever in 
love with the role he was playing, busied him- 
self in consoling the marquis and marchioness, 
swearing to them that he would surely pre- 
vent the marriage. In the afternoon he 
awaited the return of the young man, deter- 
mined to take him seriously to task for his 
lack of filial respect, and to remind him, in 
forcible terms, of his duty to his family. 

Monsieur and Madame de Bressieres placed 
all their hope in Leonce. The latter, full of 
his schemes for mending his own fortunes, 
had conceived a lively appreciation for the 
life he was leading at the chateau, where he 
was the soul of everything. He rode and 
fenced daily with Paul. Being a master of 
the foil himself, he gave lessons to the young 
105 


io6 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


count, at which the marquis assisted, applaud- 
ing the teacher and encouraging the pupil. 

Little by little the visitor had taken the 
place in the household formerly occupied by 
the count, who was now so deeply in love that 
he was good for nothing else. It was Verdac 
who rang for the servants and ordered them 
to harness or saddle the horses. It was to 
Verdac the cook came for advice about her 
inenii each morning before submitting it to 
her mistress. It was Verdac who fixed the 
hours that the coachman, Ambrose, and the 
groom, Clarot, were to have to themselves. 
It was Verdac to whom the merchants, who 
sold wine, beer, and cigars to the chateau, 
came for their orders. It was Verdac who 
wrote to Count Paul’s tailor — referring to him 
as his cousin — inclosing his own measure, so 
that one bill might be made for the clothes of 
both. It was Verdac who spent part of his 
time nosing about the cellar and persuading 
the cellarman to lay aside some of the best 
wines and brandies for his own use. It was 
to Verdac the tenants came with their inces- 
sant pleas. Verdac did so well for them that 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


107 


he was always a welcome guest at their 
houses, where he worked sad havoc among 
their pretty daughters. It was to the pious 
Verdac the priest and neighboring sisters of 
charity came with their subscription-lists. 
The marchioness, thanks to the efforts of 
the baron, quadrupled the amount of her 
alms. It was Verdac who gave to the beg- 
gars the old clothes, hats, and shoes, that 
were cast out of the wardrobes of the three 
gentlemen. Every one loved Verdac and 
called down blessings on his name. 

The mulatto appreciated the indomitable 
nature of the young count. And perceiving 
the love which Monsieur and Madame de 
Bressieres bore to their only son, he was not 
long in making up his mind that in the end 
the love-sick young man would triumph over 
the scruples of his parents. He said to him- 
self that when Paul was once safely married, 
and the two young people had gone off on 
their bridal trip, it would be necessary for him 
to leave the chateau, where he had made him- 
self such a pleasant nest, and had grown as fat 
and comfortable as a worm in a chestnut. 


I08 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

He stood at one of the high windows in his 
chamber, looking, out upon the park. As he 
surveyed the pleasant, sunlit landscape, and 
realized the luxury of the life all about him, 
his mind wandered despairingly back to the 
miseries of his lot in the city during the pre- 
ceding winter. He thought of the many 
wretched nights when he, pale and thin, with 
dirty linen, rusty coat, broken boots, and 
frowsy beard, had hastened past the restau- 
rants so as not to be tormented by the appe- 
tizing smells that issued from them, and then, 
after making his dinner off chestnuts, pur- 
loined from the fruit-stands of the Chaussee-d’ 
Autin, washed down with water from the city 
drinking-fountains, had gone to bed on a 
bench in the Champs-EIysees. One night he 
had meditated a crime. But his courage had 
failed him and he had begged instead. He 
remembered that he had been on the point of 
sinking to lower depths of infamy when he 
had received the money from his friend de 
Bressieres. 

“By all the devils,” he muttered, gnawing 
his long mustaches, “I will never go back 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


109 


to that beggarly existence. Whether Paul 
marries or not, I’ll feather my own nest, or 
know the reason why.’’ 

He rang the bell. Presently Clarot, the 
groom, appeared. He had been specially 
assigned to Verdac’s service. He was a small 
youth of sixteen years, with a sharp face and 
the muzzle of a weasel, and stood very erect 
in his livery of green cloth with silver buttons. 

‘^Young one,” said the baron, ‘^go down to 
the cellar and bring up one of the bottles of 
Madeira I’ve put aside there for my own use.” 

‘‘Yes, monsieur the baron.” 

“Be quick about it.” 

The boy hurried off, and Verdac turned to 
his toilet-table. Presently the groom returned 
with a big dusty bottle in his hand. This he 
uncorked, and pouring out a glass, handed it 
to the mulatto. The latter raised it to his 
lips and tipped its contents down his throat 
with a single gesture. 

“Another.” 

The second he sipped more deliberately, 
then handed the glass back to be filled again. 

“That will take away the taste of the water 


I lO 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


from the city fountains that I absorbed so 
much of last winter.” 

The adventurer continued to drink until 
two-thirds of the contents of the bottle had 
been transferred to his interior. Then he sat 
down. 

“Any news, Clarot.^” 

“None, monsieur the baron.” 

“Idiot, you. ought to manufacture some.” 

He took a box of cigars that stood on the 
table near, and holding them out to the boy, 
said, roughly: 

“Here, you rogue, take one for Ambrose, 
too.” 

“Monsieur is very good to us.” 

“You know pretty Toinette, don’t you.^” 

“Big Pierre’s daughter 

“Yes. Go and tell her to expect me to- 
morrow morning at about nine.” 

“Toinette will be very happy, for she is fond 
of monsieur, and Luinard’s Bicquotte will be 
jealous.” 

“Get out !” 


By and by the count returned to the cha- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


III 


teau. He came at once to Verdac’s room. 

The baron received him ceremoniously. 

“Ah, there you are at last,” he said coldly. 

“Yes, here I am.” 

“My dear sir,” the mulatto proceeded, in a 
business-like tone, “your family have charged 
me with a message for you.” 

“My dear Leonce,” said the count, “I beg 
you not to speak of my father and mother. 
I’ve had enough of them for one day.” 

“What are you going to do.^” 

“I am going to marry Mademoiselle Cha- 
zeau at all hazards.” 

From his friend’s tone and manner, Leonce 
perceived that it would be dangerous to in- 
dulge in a sermon just at present. His voice 
took a tender, coaxing tone. 

“Paul,” he murmured, “it is our old friend- 
ship that causes me to — ” 

“I know, I know,” interrupted the count 
impatiently, “but all that you can say, added 
to all that my parents have already said, will 
not alter my decision. It is irrevocable.” 

“Your love is very great then.^” 

“It is what the love of a gentleman for a 


II2 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


virtuous, beautiful, intelligent, and honorable 
young woman should be.^’ 

“But she does not belong to your world/^ 

“Our world is not as respectable as that of 
the bourgeoisie, I sometimes think. 

“To whom are you speaking.^ When a no- 
bleman falls his fall is the greater because of 
the height from which he has descended. Ah, 
my friend, the gentleman who remains honest 
in the midst of want, is very courageous. I 
have suffered, and I know. I was in the most 
abject poverty myself, and yet I remained — 

“Spotless,’^ interjected Paul, seeing the 
baron at a loss for a word. 

“Precisely.^’ 

“I am sure of it, my dear Leonce.’^ 

“In Paris I have been very hungry at times. 
I have worked, kept the books of an account- 
ant; I have even run on errands — yes, er- 
rands.” 

“Poor baron! Why did you not come to 
me.^” 

“I owed you money already. I didn’t like 
to ask you again.” 

“That was wrong. But everything is all 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


II3 

right now. Come, give me a glass of Ma- 
deira. 

“With pleasure, my dear fellow. Ah, I do 
the honors as if I was in my own home, don’t 

ir 

“You are at home.^’ 

“Well, I appear to be, at all events. 

“No, you are so. Well, here’s your health.’^ 
“And yours. And since it seems to be set- 
tled, here’s good luck to your marriage. 
“Thanks.*^ 

Paul savoured the wine approvingly as he 
drank it. 

“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Where did 
you find that stuff?” 

“In the cellar, to be sure.” 

“You ought to give my father a taste of it,” 
laughed Paul. “He has never had any. I’ll 
be bound.” 

The count placed his glass on the table. 
“Everything goes more smoothly since you 
came here, Leonce,” he said, cordially. 

“Bravo!” said the baron. “Presently you’ll 
be saying that I pay for everything out of my 
own pocket.” 

8 


II4 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“We have no need of your aid in that re- 
gard. But you know how to order the dinner 
so that we don’t get the same things to eat 
every day, as we used to. The servants both 
love and fear you. My mother is always cit- 
ing you as an example for me to follow. I 
dare say she’s not far wrong.” 

“You are so complimentary, Paul, my lad, 
that I perceive you are going to ask me to do 
something for you.” 

“You are a mind-reader.” 

“Fire away.” 

“You’ll not betray me.^” 

“What do you take me for.^” 

“Well, up to now you have sided against 
me, and with my parents. Is that not so.^” 
“It is. But if I can aid in securing your 
happiness, I may turn about.” 

“I shall know how to reward you.” 

“Paul, I am not selling my friendship.” 
The two young men thereupon separated to 
dress for dinner. But that night when they 
had retired to their rooms, they had a long, 
confidential conversation, the result of which 
was that, while the old people were slumber- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET II5 

ing peacefully in their beds, secure in the be- 
lief that Leonce was their ally, that facile 
gentleman was solemnly swearing his alle- 
giance to their son. The young count enter- 
tained his friend until a late hour of the night 
with encomiums upon the lady of his choice, 
not forgetting to express his admiration for 
the many charms and virtues of her natural 
sister, Colette Dumontheil. To all of these 
confidences the mulatto listened patiently, 
making mental notes as he went along, for his 
own future guidance. 

‘‘She is a pretty woman, then, this natural 
sister of Mademoiselle Chazeau, eh, Paul 
he queried, presently. 

“Rather too cold and severe for my taste.’’ 

“Blonde.?” 

“No, very dark. The exact image of her 
father, only handsomer.” 

“Some washerwoman’s child, I suppose.” 

“I don’t know anything about her mother’s 
antecedents.” 

“Funny thing to do, to take this natural 
child into the family circle when they had a 
legitimate daughter. Monsieur Chazeau had 


Il6 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

a deal of assurance to think of such a thing. 
His wife oughtn^t to have permitted it.’^ 

‘‘On the contrary, she was the one who in- 
sisted upon it.” 

“You don't say so!” 

“Mademoiselle Dumontheil is very highly 
thought of by everybody.” 

“All the same she will rob your fiancee of 
part of her marriage portion.” 

“Oh, I don’t care anything about that. 
Monsieur Chazeau will do as he pleases about 
that matter.” 

To the astonishment of the marquis and 
his wife. Monsieur de Verdac took a different 
tone when he met them the next day. Alas! 
In spite of all he had done to make Paul 
change his mind, the young man remained 
resolute. He declared his determination of 
awaiting the arrival of his majority, which was 
not far off, and then carrying his matrimonial 
plans into execution. The baron was of the 
opinion that it would be wise to avoid a scan- 
dal. There had been many instances of 
more deplorable inesalliances than that pro- 
posed by the count. Besides, the whole fam- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET II7 

ily would not be dishonored because one of 
their descendants departed from the usual rule 
in regard to marriage. To be sure, it was un- 
fortunate that Paul had fallen into this en- 
tanglement; but, after all, the Chazeaus were 
a fine old botu^geois family, doubtless with 
some noble blood in their veins. And there 
was one thing that he wished to specially call 
to their attention. Paul’s nature was so im- 
pulsive, so ungovernable, that really some 
dreadful misfortune might happen if — 

‘‘What do you fear.^” gasped the marchion- 
ess at this point. 

“Insanity, madame — or perhaps suicide.” 

“Oh, my God,” groaned the poor mother. 
“That must not be! That must not be! 
We have only him — only Paul to care for.” 

The baron played his cards so well that 
that very evening he entered his friend’s 
chamber, smiling triumphantly. 

“I think I’ve done the trick,” he said, 
winking at Paul. 

The young man threw himself enthusiastic- 
ally into his friend’s arms. 

“Dear Leonce!” he cried, “I owe my hap- 


Il8 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

pinessto you. I love my parents and I hated 
to have to use harsh measures with them in 
this business. But you have spared me the 
necessity. But I am not going to express my 
thanks in words alone. Fortune has been 
hard to you. When I am married I intend — ’’ 

“To offer me something in the nature of 
commission interposed the baron in atone 
which he did his best to make disdainful. 

“Don’t be cross with me,” continued Paul. 
“I wish to see you put beyond the fear of 
want, that’s all. But we’ll talk about it after 
my marriage. At present it might seem as if 
I were offering you payment for your services. 
And that you would object to, I know.” 

“Certainly T should.” 

“Well, you will see. I shall manage to do 
what I intend to do for you without wounding 
your susceptible nature in the least. Trust 
me for that.” 

“Paul, you are a good fellow.” 

That night the mulatto spent smoking, 
dreaming, and drinking. He did some calcu- 
lating also in a befuddled way. 

“Paul will have a million of his own after 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET II9 

he IS married,’^ he muttered. “I will make him 
give me fifty thousand francs which I will re- 
ceive as a loan, in order that the pride which 
has come down to me with my royal negro 
blood may not be insulted. If this Colette is 
pretty I’ll marry her. Chazeau will give her 
a marriage portion sufficient for my modest 
merits. So I shall, as it were, become a mem- 
ber of Paul’s family, by marrying his sister — 
by the left hand. Not a bad outlook for an 
ex-gambling-house attached 

A day or two afterward the Marchioness 
de Bressieres made her first formal call upon 
the Chazeau ladies. 


CHAPTER VIII 


“Isay, here’s great news exclaimed Mon- 
sieur Leander, entering the kitchen and giving 
the table, beside which his wife was seated, 
among the pans and kettles, a great thwack 
with his cane. 

Madame Rouilhat jumped up, with her hand 
on her heart, as if she had received an 
electric shock. 

“What’s the matter? Have you been drink- 
ing ?’^ she gasped. 

“No, madame.^^ 

“You gave me such a start. My heart is 
in my mouth.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing. But if you only 
knew !” 

“Don’t keep me in suspense! Has one of 
our farmers’ barns burned down?” 

“Worse than that.” 

“Has the notary, who has our hundred 
120 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


I2I 


and fifty thousand francs on deposit, run 
away 

‘‘Worse than that.’’ 

“Leander, you torture me!” 

“The deuce you say! Well, I’ll put you 
out of misery. Monsieur the Count Paul de 
Bressieres is going to marry our granddaugh- 
ter Renee. What do you think of that, old 
lady? Our money will go spinning now, eh?” 

“Is it possible! Can it be true?” 

“It is substantially settled.” 

“The Chazeaus are losing their heads. I 
shall go straight to Noutron and give them a 
piece of my mind.” 

“They’ll laugh at you.” 

“We’ll see about that. What does Colette 
say?” 

“She fought against it the best she could. 
You’ll gain nothing by interfering, wife. The 
Chazeaus are determined to have a taste of 
the nobility.” 

The old countryman began to walk up and 
down the room, which was with him the sign 
that his mind was busy with some half -formed 
purpose. 


122 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“Do you know, Honorine,’’ he said pres- 
ently, “that Colette is the only thing that at- 
tracts me over yonder?’’ 

“And I, also.” 

“We behaved rather badly, don't you 
think, when her father brought her down 
from Paris?” 

“Yes. Do you remember what care the 
dear child took of me when I was so sick that 
time? I should have died but for her.” 

“I love Colette very dearly. They say we 
get more foolish as we get older. It isn’t 
true. If nothing intervenes to spoil us utterly, 
we get better gradually, as we go along. 
When we are old we are like old wines, 
sweeter and smoother. What do you say, wife, 
to our adopting Colette? She’d bear a little 
petting by now, I shouldn’t wonder.” 

He made as if he were carrying a child in 
his big arms, and, after the manner of the 
nurses, dandled it, sang to it, and caressed it 
from time to time — as if he would thus atone 
for all the wrong he had done the absent 
girl in times gone by. At dinner they dis- 
cussed the room they would prepare for their 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


123 


new daughter. It should be furnished newly 
with a new carpet and wall paper, in all re- 
spects a worthy abiding-place for a young lady. 
Then they began talking of the Bressieres. 
Leander knew their financial situation per- 
fectly. They were still rich, he said, but 
there were heavy mortgages on the estate and 
half the revenue was eaten up by the large 
interest account. Besides, the phylloxera had 
destroyed many of the vineyards and the in- 
come was diminishing rapidly from this cause 
alone. He did not think the young count was 
exactly a fortune-hunter. He was still rich 
enough not to care specially for Renee’s two 
hundred thousand francs. It was probably 
a love-match but it was none the less a risky 
affair for all that. Young de Bressieres had 
very expensive habits. The two old people 
shook their heads dubiously, promising each 
other that none of their hard-earned wealth 
should go to enrich the nobility because of 
this foolish marriage of their grandchild. 

‘‘Saturday,’^ the old gentleman said in con- 
clusion, will go to Noutron after Colette 
and we’ll keep her here for the rest of our 
lives.” 


124 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


But the marriage was delayed, after all. 
Paul was taken ill and for a week Renee did 
not see him. She began, notwithstanding 
the assurances of her fiancee, io suspect that 
there was a plot on foot to break off the 
marriage, and as usual she laid the blame on 
Colette. 

‘‘Mademoiselle Dumontheil,” she said to 
her sister, “you swore to me by the Virgin 
that you would go away from here.” 

“I will go to-morrow.” 

“To-morrow! Always to-morrow! It is 
a cowardly, wicked shame that you do not 
go. You dishonor* me and my family. My 
fiancee is about to desert me because he can- 
not put up with your presence, which is a dis- 
grace to the house.” 

That day as Monsieur Chazeau was getting 
ready to go to court, his wife said to him: 

“Louis, I want to speak to you about the 
girls. Colette has something on her mind, I 
can tell by her face. I am afraid Renee has 
been teasing her again. But she will say 
nothing to me. Only something in her man- 
ner disquiets me.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


125 


“Renee is becoming insupportable with her 
vanity and her jealousy!” exclaimed the law- 
yer, angrily. “I, too, have observed some- 
thing strange in Colette’s manner. This 
morning, when she kissed me, she was labor- 
ing under some strong emotion. She said 
nothing, but I could not help thinking that her 
kiss was like those she gives me when I am 
going away on a journey. Keep a strict 
watch over her, Anna, I beg of you.” 

“I will, Louis. No harm shall come to 
her.” 

The kind woman in fact kept such a close 
watch on the movements of Colette that the 
young girl found it impossible to steal away 
from the house and see the superintendent of 
schools about a place as teacher as her inten- 
tion had been. She dared not write him, for 
he was acquainted with Monsieur Chazeau. 
She could not ask the superintendent to say 
nothing to her father on the subject, for he 
would find in this request a suspicious circum- 
stance that would prevent him from yielding to 
her entreaties for a place. She must contrive 
some way to make him believe that she had 


126 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


her father’s authorization to become a can- 
didate. 

All-the morning Renee had been cross and 
irritable. She scarcely ate any breakfast and, 
after that meal, went out into the garden, 
where Colette found her dreamily surveying 
the landscape, which is in truth one of the 
most beautiful in Perigord. Stealing up be- 
hind her, Mademoiselle Dumontheil murmured 
in the caressing voice which she always 
adopted in speaking to her younger sister: 

‘‘Is it not very lovely, Renee dear.^^” 

Mademoiselle Chazeau shrugged her shoul- 
ders impatiently and, pointing to a clump of 
trees on the bank of the River Nauve where 
it disappeared in the convolutions of the dis- 
tant hill, said bitterly: 

“I would I were dead and buried under 
those trees, yonder.” 

That evening the two girls went to bed 
about eleven o'clock. Madame Chazeau and 
her mother-in-law were out at some small 
social gathering. The attorney was busy 
with his books in his office. During the 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


127 


evening Renee’s manner toward her sister 
had entirely changed and poor Colette felt her 
heart grow light within her under the influ- 
ence of her sister’s smiles, She hurried to 
undress and was already in bed before Renee 
had got her dress unbuttoned. Mademoiselle 
Chazeau’s manner had become suddenly awk- 
ward since their arrival in their bedroom. 

“I am not sleepy/’ she exclaimed of a sud- 
den. “I believe I’ll go downstairs and see if 
I can’t find some cakes. We’ll have a little 
supper together up here. What do you say, 
Colette.?” 

Without waiting for an answer, she ran 
out, and Colette could hear her hastily de- 
scending the stairs. Presently she returned, 
bearing a plate of cakes in her hand. As she 
shut the door behind her, she looked fearfully 
out into the hall, as if she dreaded lest some 
one had followed her. 

“Here we are,” she said, advancing and 
placing the plate on a table near the bed. “I 
couldn’t find any preserves. But the cakes 
are nice. Have some.” 

Then she was seized with a fit of nervous 


128 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


trembling, though the night was rather warm 
than otherwise. She held a cake out to Co- 
lette but her hand shook so that the morsel 
dropped on the carpet. 

^‘Mother will scold you,” said Colette. 
“Besides, I am not hungry.” 

“Oh, you must eat some, now that I’ve been 
to all this trouble. Here, try this — this is 
lovely.” 

“Why, how pale you are!” said Colette, for 
the first time observing her sister’s agitation. 

“Oh, no — not at all. Here, eat this mac- 
aroon. I could eat three dozen of them if I 
had them. Isn’t it nice.^” 

Colette had scarcely tasted the cake be- 
fore she was seized with a nausea. 

“What is it.^^ What have you given me?” 
she exclaimed. 

Then the other, losing all control of her- 
self, cried savagely: 

“I told you, you had better go. You might 
know I would stop at nothing.” 

“Have you poisoned me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Unhappy girl!” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


129 


Of a sudden Renee broke dovv^n. The 
enormity of her crime seemed to strike her 
conscience for the first time. She fell upon 
her knees at the bedside and hid her face in 
the clothes. Then she began to cry piteously. 

“Yes, I am a wretch,’’ she sobbed — 
“worse, a criminal, a murderess! Oh, I don’t 
want you to die! I don’t want you to die! 

I was crazy! Help! Help!” 

“Be quiet, ’’said Colette, getting out of bed. 
“There is no danger. You did not give me 
enough to kill me. Poor girl! Poor girl! 
How your love for your fiancee must have made 
you suffer since it drove you to the'thought of 
murder!” 

“I am a miserable wretch,” moaned Renee 
in the bedclothes. 

Colette dressed herself rapidly. When she 
had donned her hat and coat she deposited 
the remainder of the poisoned cakes in her, 
pocket. Then she approached her still kneel- 
ing sister, and pressing a kiss upon her brow, 
hastily left the room. 

At the sound of the closing door Renee 
started up. Seeing herself alone in the room, 
she began to wring her hands and cry: 


130 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


’Xolette! Colette! Where are you, Colette? 
I am afraid 

Getting no reply to this appeal Renee at 
last became terribly frightened. She ran out 
into the hallway and began to shriek for help. 
In a few moments the whole household sur- 
rounded her, impressed with the idea that the 
house was on fire. 

‘‘What’s the matter ? Where is it?” 

“Colette!” sobbed the young girl, “Colette 
has gone away!” 

Then she drew her father and mother into 
her chamber and told them what she had done. 
Her parents thought that she had suddenly 
gone mad. But Renee’s story was circum- 
stantial. She told them when and where she 
had procured the poison, how she had, un- 
known to Margaret, concealed it in the 
kitchen, and how she had made a pretext to 
go and get some cakes so that she and Colette 
could have a little supper together, how she 
had spread the poison on some of the cakes 
and afterward forced one of them on Colette. 

“But what did you want to kill her for?” 
asked her father, horror-stricken. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 131 

“Because — because as long as Colette was 
here, Monsieur de Bressieres would not come 
here any more.” 

Monsieur Chazeau’s anger at this confes- 
sion was terrible. He would have struck Re- 
nee, but his frightened wife interposed and got 
her daughter out of his presence before he 
could carry his intention into execution. 

Search was at once made for Colette. It 
was discovered that the front door was un- 
locked. She had gone away from the house, 
undoubtedly. Monsieur Chazeau believed 
that she had gone to Paris. He ordered out 
the horse and carriage and drove with all 
speed over to Thiviers. 

Meanwhile Colette was speeding along the 
high-road as rapidly as her strength and the 
excitement under which she was laboring 
could carry her. Two belated peasants, 
slightly the worse for drink, saw her coming 
up and drew aside to let her pass. 

“It is the devil’s wife,” muttered one, 
crossing himself. 

“The devil’s grandmother !” cried the other, 
tightening his hold on his stick. 


132 


THE PERFUME OF xkE VIOLET 


But the dark figure went by without stop- 
ping to molest the peasants. At the top of 
the hill near Neimard’s mill the young girl 
stopped for breath. She was crying, partly 
with excitement and partly with fear of the 
lonely way. The idea of retracing her steps 
came to her, but at the thought of the cruel 
death she had just escaped at the hands of 
her sister she flew on again. The moon rose 
and silvered the landscape all about her. She 
found herself presently on the road that led 
to Saint-Front. 

In the early morning the Rouilhats heard a 
faint tapping at their window. Madame Hon- 
orine opened it and started in astonishment. 

“Leander!” she cried. “See here. It’s 
Colette.” 

“Colette.^” cried the old man, jumping out 
of bed. 

“Yes, she is crying, too.” 

“They have sent her away. Come in — ^come 
in, Colette. There — there ! Come and give us 
a kiss. Don’t cry! Don’t cry! I hate to 
hear you crying.” 

And the big, old fellow began to blubber 



4i 


BUT THE DARK FIGURE WENT BY WITHOUT STOPPING TO MOLEST THE PEASANTS.” 












•St '* V - • • 

>1*^ i. ^ 



■ b'- ' 


> 


■.,'l’J -(7! 


:• ^ 


T •*^ ,' .**' • 

i . . 'm : , ■ 

% Sifcr •*■■ ' • 



i.- 






w;vf 

' ^ .-S' ■ ^ ,,^v,< 

■'V* ^ • ‘ .■*''» • 

' ^'. "' i - : -^Z'* 

' ’ Z t*'-? . ' * fV ** 

• - i - ■#.H‘ 

,■ / a. 

^ ^ >« % • 

• .t^ - ‘*- >^ 








r- 


'fCi* 


.-.•vas! *^V 


"I. 


^ I 




rnrn.'m'.i* ■ .*> 



f. », 


V% JkJ*} 


• -•w. 


•t\ 


\ ^ 





. fi-'* 







... 




fc&i, ^ > >• ‘ - -aBKaaft^Mi . .vrZ 


^ '£ n’ “* 




-• * 


“, '-IP. IV 

iA.1 • % 


Si r 




■ &■ <3 


. ' >A 


;• -r- 

1 a I J' 1 ( J 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


133 


himself as he held the frightened girl in his 
arms. 

That morning after breakfast Monsieur 
Rouilhat sent for all the servants to come into 
the dining-room, to whom he presented Co- 
lette. 

“Henceforward she is our daughter,’^ he 
said. “She will be your mistress — your queen 
— do you hear.^^^ 


CHAPTER IX 


The next day the minds of Monsieur and 
Madame Chazeau were relieved by the re- 
ceipt of the news that Colette had gone to 
Saint-Front. Monsieur Leander wrote them 
the following brief note: 

‘‘Whether you like it or not, Colette is go- 
ing to stay with me hereafter.” 

A long and painful consultation between 
the husband and wife resulted in the conclu- 
sion that it was better for all that the fugitive 
should remain in the place of refuge that she 
had sought of her own accord, after her sis- 
ter’s desperate attempt upon her life. Renee’s 
crime they determined to conceal from all the 
world and especially from her grandparents. 
They knew they could count on the loyalty 
of Colette to this end. Accordingly a note 
was despatched to Saint-Front giving their 
formal consent to the adoption of Colette 
by the Rouilhats. 


134 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


135 


Soon after this the gossips of Noutron be- 
gan to be busy with the rumors of the ap- 
proaching marriage of Mademoiselle Renee 
Chazeau to the young Count de Bressieres. 
The affair even got into politics. The repub- 
licans thought it strange that the attorney, 
who was to be their candidate for the general 
assembly at the approaching election, should 
give his daughter to a noble who would be a 
strong supporter of his royalist opponent. 
As for the Mareuil ladies, to hear them talk 
one would have thought their nephew was 
about to marry into the criminal classes, 
though they did not dare to assail the char- 
acter of their neighbors directly. 

The lawyer maintained a discreet silence, 
contenting himself with assuring his friends 
that he should remain true to his republican 
principles. He had not, he said, sought the 
alliance, but had yielded to the desires of his 
daughter. If his daughter’s happiness would 
be promoted by her marriage to young Count 
de Bressieres he did not think he had the right 
to let his personal feelings or his political 
opinions stand in the way. 


136 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


The Bressieres had more serious evils to 
contend against, for they found themselves 
stricken out of the testamentary dispositions 
of the Mareuils, a couple of old maids who 
had very strict ideas on the subject of family 
pride and duty. 

‘‘I think I know,’’ said Renee to Paul, one 
day just before their marriage, “why you hes- 
itated to speak to me for so long. There 
were two reasons, were there not? The first 
was because we do not belong to the aris- 
tocracy, and the second — ” 

“Well, and the second?” queried her lover, 
seeing her hesitate. 

“Was because I have a natural-born sister.” 

But Paul, somewhat to her surprise, has- 
tened to correct her on this latter point. 

“I have many faults,”’ he said, “but I have 
one virtue— candor.” 

“Yes?” 

“Very well. I admit there was some truth 
in your first supposition. I did fear a quarrel 
with my family if I should propose to them 
what we so foolishly call in these times a 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 1 37 

mesalliance. But the other reason would have 
made me more anxious, if anything, to unite 
my family with yours. I have always re- 
spected your father on account of his talents 
and his probity. But I have loved him ever 
since I heard the story of Mademoiselle D.u- 
montheil’s entry into the family. And I like 
her ever so much, too. She is very fond of 
you, do you know.^ Your ears would tingle 
.with pleasure could you hear her speak about 
you. Why did she leave you.^” 

“My grandfather Rouilhat insisted on hav- 
ing her with him.” 

“What a remarkable old gentleman that 
grandfather of yours is! He almost showed 
me the door the other day when I went to in- 
vite him to our marriage.” 

“Why didn’t you knock him down.^” 

The wedding was a simple affair. This was 
the desire of both families. And they had 
their way in spite of the wishes of the bride, 
who had dreamed of a splendid ceremony, of 
gilt coaches, gorgeous liveries and the street 
in front of the house strewn with flowers. 


138 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

But in view of the general objections she 
thought it best to give way on this point. 
Her disappointment, however, was keen and 
rankled within her. 

Colette was maid of honor and the Baron 
de Verdac was best man. The latter did his 
best to ingratiate himself with Mademoiselle 
Dumontheil. After the wedding, he prevailed 
on the Marchioness de Bressieres to go to the 
Rouilhats with a formal offer of his hand to 
their adopted daughter. The old lady’s mis- 
sion met with a very frigid reception, but this 
did not prevent the gallant baron from pre- 
senting himself in person a few days later to 
press his suit. He was met by the redoubt- 
able Leander, who rejected the baron’s offer 
in the following perfectly frank but somewhat 
unceremonious terms: 

“Our Colette will never be yours, my lad.’^ 

This blunt refusal from the old farmer 
greatly outraged the stalwart Leonce, who 
thereupon responded: 

“Indeed! Well, it’s as well for you to 
know then, old man, that I was not at all in 
earnest. I was only joking with you and with 
her.’’ 






* ■' ^ 




WHY, YOU BLACK RASCAL, WHAT DO YOU MEAN ? ” 



THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


139 


‘‘Why, you black rascal, what do you 
mean?^^ cried Leander, in a towering rage. 

He straightway set upon the mulatto so 
furiously that, by the time some farm-hands 
arrived and dragged him off, the big Parisian 
was reduced to a state of unconsciousness. 
He was resuscitated, his wounds bound up 
and he was packed into a carriage and driven 
over to the chateau where he arrived breath- 
ing vengeance. But his ideas in that direc- 
tion never came to anything, for he straight- 
way found himself called to go up to Paris to 
prepare the new home of the young couple 
for their reception upon the completion of 
the wedding journey. 

For the next three years Count Paul and 
his wife resided in a sumptuous hotel in the 
Rue Saint-Dominique. The baron procured 
everything for them, even the servants. He 
hired two coachmen, a chef and three aids in 
the kitchen, a Swiss, a cellarman, a valet, and 
a maid, all of whom remained devoted to the 
baron during their continuance in the count’s 
service. Paul thought there were too many of 


140 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


them and that the hotel was too costly for his 
income. But Renee urged him with her 
sweetest cajoleries to keep it. She said that 
people of their rank and fashion must keep up 
appearances. If it was necessary to retrench, 
let it be in some other direction. She did not 
suggest precisely how they should retrench 
but she made it apparent that in her opinion 
it ought not to be in the direction of her own 
wardrobe. Paul was weak and fond and lazily 
brought himself to sanction all the engage- 
ments Verdac had made in his name, saying 
to himself that one day he would be a very 
rich man. The mulatto was the constant ad- 
viser of Renee in selecting the furnishings of 
the house, receiving secret commissions from 
all the dealers to whom he brought the young 
country girl. 

In course of time Renee became the mother 
of a pretty baby. But she was too fond of 
the pleasures of society to devote herself to 
her maternal duties. So the little one was 
packed off to her mother at Noutron. 

At first, the aristocratic faubourg was dis- 
posed to turn a cold shoulder to the young 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET I4I 

count, because of his plebeian marriage. But 
presently one needy gentleman after another, 
with their wive^ permitted their haughty 
feelings to be softened by the wealth and the 
luxurious style of living of the parvenu. 
The men admired her beauty and grace; and 
before long she got the better of the jealousies 
of the women by her good nature and because 
they were compelled to look upon her as a 
person of the strictest virtue. 

Under the guidance of Verdac, Paul be- 
came a regular habitue of several clubs where 
he took to gambling for high stakes. He fre- 
quented the races and backed courageously, 
if not always wisely, the horses he fancied. 
Worst of all, he became involved with a cer- 
tain Blanche de Ramily, a somewhat famous 
member of that class of women whom Car- 
lyle felicitously and humorously denominates 
“unfortunate females.’’ 

The countess had her box at the opera and 
the Theatre Francais. The society papers 
numbered her among the most fashionable wo- 
men of the faubourg. Renee was so proud of 
this that she sent copies of the leading papers 


142 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


to her family each week, marking her own 
name wherever mentioned. She found this 
a very convenient mode of conducting the 
correspondence on her side. She scarcely 
gave herself the trouble to write a personal 
letter once a month to inquire after her child’s 
health. In this way her parents could ob- 
serve her — from afar— during the winters at 
the fashionable city gatherings; and during 
the summers they could follow her from wa- 
tering-place to watering-place in the columns 
of the ‘‘Figaro.” 

Madame de Bressieres took riding lessons 
and became an excellent horsewoman. She 
played the piano and waltzed beautifully. 
With monkey-like mimicry, she copied the 
vocal modulation, the carriage and the facial 
expression of the other fashionable women by 
whom she was surrounded. She toned down 
her impetuous country manners. She molded 
herself, morally and physically, upon the fash- 
ionable model. If she blushed or turned pale 
she did so in a moderate, ladylike way. Her 
strong young limbs accustomed themselves to 
an aristocratic languor of motion. Her mind 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


143 


lost all independence of thought. 'She learned 
how to simper and titter behind her fan so 
that you could not have told her from a mon- 
daine “to the manner born.” In short, this 
young rustic maiden, who had possessed in 
her country home at least some originality of 
character, by systematic endeavor gradually 
succeeded in making of herself one of those 
dolls of society who have no distinguishing 
trait unless it be that they all look and be- 
have exactly alike. The fashionable doll has 
neither head nor heart, neither morals nor 
affections, and what principles it possesses it 
puts on and off with its skirts, which it is con- 
tinually changing. 

Verdac had rooms in the Rue de Londres. 
He had long since spent the fifty thousand 
francs which his friend’s marriage had brought 
him. He lived now upon money which the 
countess lent him, without the knowledge of 
her husband. From time to time he made 
love to the lady. But it should be said that 
Renee, who was in truth much in love with 
her husband, received his advances with little 
favor. 


144 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“Do you dare to tell me/^ she would say, 
“that all fashionable women have lovers?” 

“Certainly they have. I give you my 
word of honor.” 

“I don’t believe it. I have none and I don’t 
want any. We’ll remain just good friends, if 
you please. Otherwise you must go away 
and stay away.” 

As Madame de Bressieres’ so-called loans 
were his sole means of livelihood the mulatto 
concluded to accept the lady’s hint, at least 
for the present, and to curb his desire for this 
specially forbidden fruit. 

The happy days and months followed each 
other in rapid succession, while the count’s 
fortune gradually poured itself out through 
the four gaps which yawned wider and wider 
as time went on — the expenses of the man 
about town, the luxury of the wife, the lux- 
ury of the mistress, and the secret but per- 
sistent borrowing of the friend. 

During the exposition of 1878 the marquis 
and marchioness came to Paris to visit their 
children. They were followed in due course 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET I45 

by the Chateaus. Even the Rouilhats, though 
not expected, put in an appearance, accom- 
panied by Colette, who had persuaded them 
to make the journey, much against their will. 
The old people would not stay more than a 
day, however, at the hotel in the Rue Saint- 
Dominique, so incensed were they at the 
treatment they received there at the hands 
of their granddaughter. They took lodgings 
in the city which they occupied while they 
were visiting the exposition. When they 
came to go home nothing Colette could say 
would induce them to go and bid their grand- 
daughter good-bye. But they went to see the 
concierge^ Angela Reboul, who had been so 
kind to Colette on the occasion of the death 
of her mother. 

“Colette,’’ said Monsieur Leander, “I want 
you to take us to see that concierge about 
whom you have spoken to us so often. I’ve 
got something for her.” 

Arrived there, Colette introduced the old 
people to her former friend, who straightway 
inquired after her father’s health. 

“Her father.^” broke in the old peasant 
farmer, “I am her father.” lo 


146 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“You? Oh, no. I know Monsieur Chazeau. 
He has changed a good deal in the last four- 
teen years, I dare say, but not as much as 
that.’’ 

“All the same I am her father, I tell you, 

coitciergc. ” 

Then he drew a fat pocket-book from the 
recesses of his great-coat and took therefrom 
a large roll of bills. 

“Here,” he continued, handing the latter to 
the astonished woman, who could scarcely 
believe the evidence of her senses, “here is 
something for you to make curl-papers with, 
if you choose. Nothing is too good for any- 
one who has been kind to my Colette. She 
is a beauty, eh? Look at her. Ho-ho, a 
perfect rose-bud! Give us a kiss, Colette, 
and hand this stuff over to your friend.” 


CHAPTER X 


Life passed smoothly away with Monsieur 
and Madame Chazeau at Noutron, while Re- 
nee’s little boy, who had been christened 
Louis Raymond, after his two grandfathers, 
grew in grace and beauty. He was the pet 
of his grandmother and great-grandmother. 
His Aunt Colette drove in from Saint-Front 
once a week to kiss and play with him. The 
Marchioness de Bressieres became a constant 
visitor at the Chazeaus,for she also had fallen 
very much in love with her pretty grandchild. 
Finally, old Margaret, the cook, brought up 
the rear of this procession of female worship- 
ers at the shrine of the new household god. 
The attorney, who had made up his mind to 
leave politics alone, enjoyed the quiet and 
peace of his home to the utmost. Now that 
his mind was definitely set at rest about Re- 
nee’s future, by her brilliant marriage to the 
heir of the Bressieres, he turned his attention 
147 


148 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


to securing the happiness of his natural 
daughter. But the old land-speculator would 
have none of his interference in Colette’s 
affairs. 

“Son-in-law,” the mayor of Saint-Front 
would say, when Monsieur Chazeau broached 
the subject, “you had full swing in placing 
your legitimate daughter where it seemed 
good to you. I beg you to leave me and my 
old lady to take care of the future of our 
adopted daughter.” 

“But I have laid aside a marriage-portion 
for Colette.” 

“Thank you. We don’t need it. We will 
take care of that ourselves.” 

At his home at Saint-Front the old fellow, 
who was crabbed enough everywhere else, 
always did his best to be pleasant and agree- 
able, because he knew that would please Co- 
lette. 

“Colette, my child. I’m looking out for a 
husband for you,” he would observe, with a 
chuckle. 

“Thank you, I don’t wish one,” the girl 
would answer, blushing. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


149 


What would you say, on general principles 
now, to a notary, eh?” the old man would 
persist, enjoying her confusion and admiring 
her coloring immensely. 

“Oh, as well as another. But I’m very 
happy as I am.” 

“Hah! That’s worth knowing. Still, you 
are not cut out for an old maid, my dear.” 

“Well, there’s plenty of time yet, Mon- 
sieur Leander.” 

“I thought I told you not to call me ‘mon- 
sieur’.” 

“Yes, father,” meekly. 

“That’s better, eh, Honorine?” 

“What, Monsieur Leander?” 

Whereupon the worthy mayor of Saint- 
Front would fly into a rage with his wife for 
calling him “monsieur” also. He would de- 
clare that she did it to make fun of him — 
which was quite true — and would then remind 
her with great dignity that the gentry and no- 
bility of the neighborhood were in the habit of 
addressing him as “monsieur” in sober ear- 
nest on account of the office of mayor of the 
commune which he had held for so many 


150 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

years. This fit of temper \vould last until 
Colette would come to him and, laying her 
smooth cheek against his bearded one, would 
coax him back to good humor again. 

All of a sudden, Renee began to write to 
her parents from Paris for money. These 
demands became more and more pressing, 
until, finally, Monsieur Chazeau declared that 
he would send no more. Then Renee wrote 
to Colette to intercede for her. By the 
prayers of the latter some few thousand francs 
more were wrung from the already embar- 
rassed attorney and found their way to Paris. 

Colette, urged thereto by her sister, under- 
took also to interest the Rouilhats in the 
affairs of their granddaughter. But she was 
utterly unsuccessful in this direction. 

^‘So they’ve broken down at last!^^ the old 
farmer exclaimed with a chuckle of evil en- 
joyment when Colette informed him of the 
straitened financial circumstances of the 
Bressieres. ‘T wonder how lawyer Chazeau 
likes the nobility business, now.’^ 

Paul and Renee addressed themselves to 
their respective families for means to carry 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET ' I5I 

on their extravagant mode of life. Each 
promised reformation and a more economical 
household in the future, but both were press- 
ing in their demands for present assistance, 
so much so, indeed, that they frequently over- 
shot the mark. One day, Madame Chazeau 
received a letter from her daughter. Colette 
and old Madame Clorinde were both in the 
room when the servant brought it in. 

^^Read it to me, please, Colette,” Anna said, 
handing the note over to the latter. 

Colette read as follows: 

“Mamma: — I know why father is so stingy 
toward me. He is robbing me of my rights 
for Colette’s sake and Colette is robbing my 
grandparents — ” 

Anna snatched the letter out of the young 
woman’s hand, glanced hastily over it and 
threw it into the fire, her own face red with 
anger and mortification. Colette hung her 
head while the tears came to her eyes. 
Madame Chazeau came to her and took her 
in her arms. 

“Do not cry, dear,” she said, “Renee is a 
wicked, wicked girl.” 


152 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘I tried to get money from them for her,’^ 
sobbed the poor girl on Anna’s bosom, ‘‘but 
they would not listen to me.” 

“What does that hare-brained creature 
want now.^” asked Madame Clorinde. 

“She wants a greater sum, by far, than she 
has ever dared to ask for before. Twenty 
thousand francs! Her father will not think* 
of sending it to her.” 

Nevertheless, that afternoon Mademoiselle 
Dumontheil persuaded her father to go to the 
bank with her. Afterward, with a happy 
smile upon her face, she accompanied him to 
the postoffice to see him dispatch a porten- 
tous-looking letter to the address of Madame 
de Bressieres in Paris. 

At the chateau at Saint-Front things were 
meanwhile going from bad to worse. Piece 
by piece the Bressieres had sold off their 
lands, Rouilhat, unknown to them, being the 
purchaser. Paul’s demands for money were 
unintermitting. They were couched in such 
terms as made it impossible for these people 
of noble birth and tender sensibilities to ignore 
them. He represented to them that unless 




'‘sometimes at night he would take a lamp in his hand and survey the 

PORTRAITS OF HIS ANCESTORS.” 





THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


153 


they came to his aid he must be forever dis- 
honored. He asked them if they would like 
to see their only son a pensioner upon his 
wife’s bounty. These representations, accom- 
panied by profuse promises of reform, and 
vows that he would in the near future rescue 
their fortunes from ruin by his own exertions, 
extracted at last all the substance of the old 
people. Their lands, with the exception of 
the demesne about the chateau, were all sold 
off. They still kept one horse and an old car- 
riage. The marquis parted with his rare 
collection of curios and the marchioness with 
her jewels. The gardener and his wife were 
now the only servants about the place. The 
old marchioness carried her troubles to God 
and found consolation there, but the marquis 
grew thinner and weaker day by day as the 
load of care pressed heavier upon him. He 
never went out in the daytime now. Some- 
times at night he would take a lamp in his hand 
and, going into the picture gallery, survey, 
one after the other, the portraits of his 
ancestors hanging there. Sometimes he would 
go out and walk in the grounds in the moon- 


154 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


light, and return to the house, pale and 
haggard, after having heard some peasants 
gossiping upon the highway, about the value 
of the trees in the park, and the building 
material of the chateau. In his mind’s eye, 
the poor old gentleman could see the arms 
of the workmen already lifted for the sorrow- 
ful task of demolition. He could hear the 
axes and mattocks at their devastating 
work, under the orders of big Leander. He 
would stand, for a long time, with his hands 
pressing against the massive walls of the house 
as if he would thus, by his own weak inter- 
position, prevent them from falling to the 
ground. Almost every day he would get some 
threatening or dunning letter from the city, 
like the following, for instance: 

Paris, December 15, 1880. 

Monsieur the marquis: — I have the honor to 
call upon you — agreeably to the suggestion 
of your son — for payment of several notes of 
hand, amounting in all to one hundred and 
forty thousand francs. Your son is unable to 
give me any satisfactory guarantee of pay- 
ment. This is the last appeal I shall make to 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 1 55 

you. If I do not hear from you within a week 
I shall let the law take its course. 

Respectfully, 

Ambrose Maclard. 

No. 292 Rue du Faubourg-Montmartre. 

To this letter Monsieur de Bressieres, in a 
towering rage, replied: 

‘‘Go to the devil! I have bled all I can. I 
will not bleed any longer.” 

Monsieur Maclard, who was a usurer, orig- 
inally from Normandy, now in Paris in the 
service of a firm of Frankfort Jews, read this 
curt note in the privacy of his business office 
and smiled sardonically when he had finished 
its perusal. 

“Let me see,” he said, “my attachment 
against young de Bressieres’ assets comes in 
after several bills of sale and one or two other 
attachments. Hum! If I don’t look out I 
shan’t get all of my money. His father won’t 
make himself responsible for the debt, it 
seems. Very good. Then he shall pay it in 
cash. Yes, I think I see a way to make the 
old man bleed although he thinks he is already 
run dry. Ho-ho!” 


CHAPTER XI 

It was Christmas morning. A raw, cold 
wind was blowing down the valley of the 
Dome, stirring up the mists which hung 
heavily over the river like a great lead-colored 
blanket. It being a holiday, all sounds of 
labor had ceased in the country-side. The 
merry tic-tac of the grist-mills was hushed. 
Only the dolorous sound of the water falling 
over the mill-dams seemed to unite in itself 
the expression of the universal suffering, sor- 
row, anguish, not only of humanity, but of 
all that lives. 

The priest was just finishing mass in the 
little church at Saint-Front. A number of the 
country people had already made their exit, 
and these now collected around a big, red- 
faced man clad in gray, with a tall hat and a 
fur-bound overcoat, who began haranguing 
them. Behind this man stood the village 
drummer, drum-sticks in hand and drum on 
156 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


157 


stomach, waiting for the word of command 
to commence beating. Meanwhile he was 
busily engaged in spelling out the words 
printed on a large placard affixed to the back 
of the red-faced man in front of him. 

“It’s a cheap-jack,’’ whispered one farmer 
to another, with a jog of the elbow. 

“No. He hasn’t got anything to sell. 
Where’s his wagon 

“No,” chimed in a third, “he’s not sharp 
enough looking for a cheap-jack.” 

The red-faced man was no other than Mon- 
sieur Ambrose Maclard, money lender, late 
of Normandy, now of the Rue du Faubourg- 
Montmartre of Paris. 

“Monsieur and Madame de Bressieres will 
come out among the last, they tell me,” said 
Monsieur Maclard to the drummer, who was 
evidently in his employ. 

“Yes, sir. They have to pass through the 
entire church, for their seats are up near the 
altar.” 

“He is /a tall man, isn’t he.^” 

“Yes, sir — tall and thin — with a white 
beard. You can’t fail to recognize him. A 
very fine man is monsieur the marquis.” 


158 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


^‘That is not the point. The point is that 
he must pay me what he owes me — or his son 
— it’s all the same. Bellow with all your 
might when you come to read the placard. 
Your regular charge is ten sous, you say, and 
remember I am going to give you twenty 
francs.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Some of the people began to read the 
placard and repeated to each other a name 
which they found there. This was whispered 
through the crowd as the designation of the 
man who stood in front of them. Bystanders 
commenced to take liberties with the red- 
faced man and his drummer both, plucking at 
their coats, tilting their hats over their eyes, 
thumping the drum with their fists, and so 
forth. But Monsieur Maclard and his assist- 
ant bore these small trials imperturbably, 
the drummer for the sake of the twenty francs 
and the note-broker for the sake of the faith 
that was in him that he was about to make 
the Marquis de Bressieres bleed in spite of 
himself. 

Presently Maclard raised his cane and 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


159 


twirled it rapidly round in his fingers after the 
fashion affected by drum-majors. 

“Rub-a-dub-dub — Rub-a-dub-dub/^ went 
the drummer. 

“Halt/^ was the next order. “Come here, 
all.” 

On this invitation the crowd, now amount- 
ing to several hundred persons — for the church 
had emptied itself and the Marquis de Bres- 
sieres and his wife were visible on the porch, 
waiting for an opening to be made for their 
passage — pressed closely about the red-faced 
man and waited curiously for what he had to 
say. Whereupon the drummer began reading 
in a loud tone of voice the following procla- 
mation from the placard affixed to his em- 
ployer’s back: 

“For sale to the lowest bidder, at a heavy 
loss, twenty notes of hand of Monsieur the 
Count Paul de Bressieres, son of Monsieur 
the Marquis Raymond de Bressieres, of the 
chateau of Bressieres. These notes, which 
the Bressieres refuse to pay, amount to the 
large sum of one hundred and forty thousand 
francs. The bearer of this placard, poor devil, 


i6o 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


is the owner of the notes, and he is willing to 
dispose of them for anything he can get — even 
a crust of bread. To such desperate straits 
has he been reduced by this family. 

“Those wishing to purchase will apply to 
Monsieur Ambrose Maclard of Paris, the man 
who stands in front of me, and whom this 
noble family is sending to the poor-house to- 
gether with his wife and four little children. 

“Monsieur Maclard is staying at the Saint- 
Front inn. Come one, come all. All these 
promises to pay of the Bressieres family for 
just a crust of bread 

By this time Madame de Bressieres was 
weeping with humiliation and vexation in the 
church porch. The old marquis forced his 
way through the crowd and seized Maclard 
by the collar. 

“You scoundrel!’^ he exclaimed, hoarse with 
passion, “you shall be paid, but I forbid you 
to insult me here before my people.” 

Whereupon four or five small creditors of 
the old gentleman thought themselves justi- 
fied in advancing their claims. 

“And us?” they cried. “Will you pay us?” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET l6l 

“I have sold all I have to satisfy your 
claims/^ he groaned. 

‘‘Everything?” 

“Yes, everything.” 

“He lies!” cried some one in the crowd. 
“He is afraid of this Parisian and is going 
to settle with him. But we shall never be 
paid.” 

“That’s wrong!” cried several. “The mar- 
quis isn’t the man to cheat anybody.” 

“The marquis is a good man.” 

“His wife is a saint.” 

“They are robbers.” 

“To the river with them.” 

These various cries indicated a decided 
difference of opinion in the crowd as to the 
old marquis’ financial integrity. The two 
factions began straightway to abuse each 
other. Abuse was followed by pushings and 
haulings and these by blows. One of those 
terrible outbursts of popular fury seemed im- 
pending such as characterized the conduct of 
the peasants who, for instance, on the fifteenth 
of August, 1870, set upon the young gentle- 
man in the market of the neighboring town of 
Hautefaye and burned him alive. 


i 62 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOT.ET 


The party of the creditors seemed to far 
outnumber the friends of the Bressieres. The 
cries of “To the river’’ grew more numerous 
and threatening each moment. The two old 
people stood in imminent peril of bodily harm 
when a former servant of the chateau sprang 
in front of the marquis, and brandishing a 
large knife in the face of his assailants, ex- 
claimed: 

“Til rip up the first man that touches him!” 

Some of the former tenants of the Bres- 
sieres estates ranged themselves alongside this 
man, and a gigantic young cuirassier on fur- 
fough, son of farmer Giron, nearly killed one 
of the most excited of the creditors by a blow 
of his big fist. Further trouble was averted 
by the arrival of the mayor, Monsieur Rouil- 
hat, in all the glory of his tri-colored sash of 
.office. The appearance of this functionary 
put a stop to the incipient riot. The late 
disputants gradually dispersed, wrangling 
somewhat as they went. When they were 
left alone along Maclard lifted his hat cere- 
moniously to the marquis and said: 

“Monsieur the marquis, I trust to your 
word of honor.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


163 


Then he walked away down the street to 
his inn followed by his drummer. That even- 
ing he was closeted with Monsieur Rouilhat in 
his room. The two worthies were discussing 
the merits of a bottle of the native wine and 
had under its warming influence become very 
good friends. 

‘‘You will pardon me, Monsieur Normandy, 
for not having asked you to my own house.’’ 

“Oh, I understand perfectly, Monsieur Per- 
igord. Your letter was quite explicit. You 
wish to become the possessor of the chateau 
of Bressieres without being known in the busi- 
ness.” 

“Yes — you see it’s a family matter.” 

“Will Monsieur Perigord take up his resi- 
dence in the chateau.^” 

“No, Monsieur Normandy. Monsieur Peri- 
gord is going to pull the old barracks down.” 

That same evening, as the Chazeaus were 
at tea, the Marquis de Bressieres was an- 
nounced. When he entered, both husband 
and wife arose, startled at the unnatural pal- 
lor of the old gentleman’s face. 

“Our children !” they both exclaimed, ani- 
mated by the same thought. 


164 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘Lost! Lost!’^ ■ 

“Dead?” 

“Worse than dead — dishonored.” 

And the old man w^ould have fallen to the 
floor had the attorney not sustained him on 
his strong arm. 

Three days afterward the chateau became 
the property of Monsieur Ambrose Maclard, 
acting as the agent of Monsieur Rouilhat. 
The Bressieres were given a month to move 
out. 

About this time, the old farmer came to 
Colette and said: 

“I have found a husband for you, my dear.” 

“Who?” 

“A notary of Piegnt.” 

“I am sorry to hear you say so. I don’t 
want to marry.” 

“Not with a half million for marriage por- 
tion?” 

“No, I can’t think of marrying while my 
sister is so unhappy.” 

“Unhappy! Well, whose fault is it. I’d like 
to know?” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 165 

The afternoon after this conversation Mon- 
sieur Chazeau and Mademoiselle Dumontheil 
took the train at Thiviers bound for Paris. 
They were alone in their compartment As 
the train sped along Colette leaned her head 
on her father’s shoulder and said: 

‘‘Father, do you remember that journey, 
years ago, when you held in your arms a little 
girl all dressed in black? Do you remem- 
ber the dear words you spoke to her? ‘Do 
not call me sir. Call me papa, ’ you said. 
Then you asked 'Are you afraid?’ I looked 
at you and shook my head. For you seemed 
to me so kind, so good, that I would have 
followed you to the end of the world.” 

“My dear, dear daughter.” 

“You were my papa-mamma, then. You 
warmed my little cold hands in yours. You 
tucked me under the covers you had brought 
and you made me forget my grief by telling 
me some wonderful stories, I remember. 
When you thought I was asleep you hardly 
stirred for fear of waking me.” 

“But you don’t tell what happened after- 
ward, my poor child. What a life of humil- 
iations I was bringing you to!” 


1 66 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

“I have nothing to remember of all that 
time except your love and the goodness of 
Mamma Chazeau and of grandmamma. But 
I love best to think of that night. You asked 
if mamma ever spoke your name in anger, 
and I said ‘my mother was not naughty’ and 
then you said — and oh, there was such a trem- 
ble in your voice when you said it — you said, 
‘I am not naughty either, Colette; you will 
see how I shall love you. ^ Do you remem- 
ber.?” 

She glanced up into her father’s face, and, 
as if prompted thereto by the look of anxiety 
she saw in the kindly eyes, she drew her arms 
about his neck and, clinging to him, whis- 
pered in his ear not to be down-hearted, that 
she, Colette, the little black-robed girl of long 
ago, would never rest until she had rescued 
her sister from the ruin that had come to her 
life. She could and she would soften the 
grandfather’s heart toward Renee. 


CHAPTER XII 


Count Paul and his friend Baron de Verdac 
dined that same evening with the actress, 
Blanche de Ramily, at her hotel in the Rue 
de Berlin. During the course of the dinner, 
the latter referred to the fact that she and 
Paul were going to a ball that night. 

“When do you start queried the baron, 
carelessly. 

“My carriage will be at the door at ten.’’ 

“And it's half past eight now,” said Verdac, 
swallowing the last drops from his cup of black 
coffee. “Well, I’ll be off, then. I know you 
women like plenty of time to dress. I sup- 
pose you’ll not be going yet, eh, Paul.^” 

“No,” said the count, somewhat gruffly. 
He was looking careworn and haggard. His 
financial difficulties, which had now reached a 
crisis, had changed the former sunny-tempered 
young fellow into an irritable, morose man of 
the world. He had gradually drawn more 
107 


1 68 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

and^more into himself and now hardly spoke 
at all, except when directly addressed. Long 
brooding over his troubles had resulted in his 
becoming that most unfortunate of mortals — a 
man who condoles with himself. 

The woman with whom the baron had left 
him was one of the famous women of her class. 
She was a large, bronze-haired creature with 
a magnificent figure, laughing eyes and viva- 
cious manners. She had been a queen of the 
Amazons in one of the Chatelet spectacular 
plays when the young count had first beheld 
her. Since then, as has been already hinted, 
the ex-Amazon’s luxury had been one of the 
important factors in working his financial 
ruin. But he had never been able to shake 
himself free from her influence, though he had 
long since been divested of the illusions that 
had first caused him to fall under it. He knew 
perfectly well that the divinely fair, divinely 
tall Juno of the Chatelet was nothing more 
nor less than a painted doll with an appetite. 
But the habit of feeding the doll had grown 
upon him with the years and jt was not one 
of the least of his reasons for self-condolence 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


169 


that he was now on the point of being deprived 
of the means of continuing this very silly 
amusement. 

Meanwhile the Baron de Verdac, after 
taking his leave, had proceeded at once to the 
hotel in the Rue Saint-Dominique. Here he 
was informed that the countess, suffering from 
a slight indisposition, had retired for the night. 
Going into the library, he wrote a short note 
which he sent up to the lady by the hands of 
her maid. A few moments afterward Renee 
might have been seen in her room, dressing 
herself in great haste. She was very pale and 
was evidently laboring under strong excite- 
ment. 

“Augustine!” she exclaimed to the maid 
who was assisting, “you must hurry. I never 
saw you so slow as you are to-night.” 

The maid, who at first, with the suspicious 
cunning of her class, had concluded that her 
mistress was about to go to some rendezvous, 
now perceived by the tears in her eyes and 
her feverish manner that the affair was of 
more serious import. She heard the countess 
mutter between her clenched teeth : “ Coward ! 
Coward! I will kill 


170 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘Aha!’^ thought the soubrette, with an in- 
ward chuckle, “she is not going to one herself, 
but she’s going to catch the count in one.” 
Then she said aloud: 

“Madame appears to be suffering much. Can 
I do anything to aid madame.^” 

“No — no. Be still.” 

“Madame knows how devoted I have been 
to her interests.” 

“Yes, girl, yes.” 

“If madame would but think how much in 
need I am of — ” 

“Your wages. Can’t you wait until to-mor- 
row.^” 

“Madame knows that I am poor and can- 
not afford — ” 

“You will be paid to-morrow.” 

“But, madame — ” 

“To-morrow, to-morrow, I tell you.” 

Renee rushed from the room and down the 
stairs. The baron was waiting for her in the 
hallway. Together they left the house and 
entered a hired carriage that was waiting for 
them. The driver whipped up his horses and 
the vehicle dashed off in the direction of the 
European quarter. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 171 

Renee drew back into one corner of the 
carriage to keep as far as possible from the 
baron, who now began to be rather offensively 
familiar in his language. A dark suspicion 
crossed her mind. 

‘‘Have you dared to deceive me.^” she ex- 
claimed, leaning forward and scanning the 
mulatto’s face closely by the light of a street 
lamp. 

“You shall have the proof before the hour 
is up,” said Verdac, grandiloquently. 

The countess produced a small revolver 
from the pocket of her furred dolman. 

It was one of those jeweled toys that might 
have looked well on a chatelaine, but was not 
intended for very effective service. 

“If he has deceived me!” she exclaimed, 
tragically, “I shall kill him with this. But 
if you have dared to tell me a falsehood, be- 
ware! It will be your turn.” 

The baron glanced at the weapon in affected 
concern and then his evil eyes rested hungrily 
upon the fair face of the would-be Judith. 

“Madame,” he said, “you ought not to 
think of inflicting bodily injury upon the 


172 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


count. If I had supposed for a moment that 
the affair was going to take a tragic turn, I 
would not have thought of coming to you. It 
was only as the friend of both of you that I 
conceived it to be my duty to speak. You, I 
believed, could save Paul, and at all events I 
could not bear to have you deceived longer. 
Please give me the revolver.’^ 

‘‘No.” 

“Then, let us go back.” 

“No. I shall go on to the bitter end. I 
will kill him first and myself afterward.” 

^ “Dear madame,” persisted the baron^ “an 
accident might happen if you continue to 
flourish that. Don’t you remember how little 
Marchioness de Valognes killed herself acci- 
dentally a few years ago when she was out 
hunting? She was in the act of jumping her 
horse over a fence in the woods that was 
covered by a mass of underbrush. She had 
her gun in her hand; a twig caught .in the 
trigger and — bang! Poor little woman, how 
she could waltz! I beg of you, dear madame, 
to let me have that dangerous weapon.” 

But the countess was not to be frightened. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


173 


She, however, slipped the revolver back into 
her pocket and promised to be cool and calm. 
Whereupon Leonce began to make love to her 
again. 

The countess paid little attention to him, 
however. She remained in her corner of the 
carriage sunk in painful reflections. She knew 
that she was quite as responsible as her hus- 
band for the financial wreck that had come to 
them, but she had always respected her wifely 
honor and remained faithful to her marriage 
vows, though she had had her temptations, too. 
And now to learn that over here where they 
were going — in the Rue de Berlin — her hus- 
band had been all these years sinking his own 
honor as well as his fortune. While she had 
been fighting— or so she phrased it to herself 
— to stave off the catastrophe, over here all 
of her marriage portion and the money ob- 
tained from the sale of her jewels had been 
wasted, poured out upon a — faugh! she could 
not bring herself to say the word. He had 
had all the fun, the gayety, the freedom from 
care. She had had to bear all the worry 
and the blame, the visits of creditors furious 


174 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


because of their unpaid bills and proportion- 
ately insolent, the sniffs and slights of the serv- 
ants who put on injured airs because they had 
not received their wages. Her husband had 
not even had the decency to conceal his 
double life; he had permitted his friends to 
know all about it. For years it had been an 
open secret to this man who was now leading 
the martyr-wife to her Calvary. 

Paul had left the house that morning upon 
the pretext of a visit to the court officers to 
obtain, if possible, a delay in respect to the 
sale of the household furniture which had been 
ordered to satisfy some attachments. . With 
tears in his eyes he had said to her: 

‘‘Poor, dear girl, we are a very unhappy, 
unfortunate couple. But be brave. Think of 
our child. I shall go to America and try my 
fortune. You shall go back to Noutron to 
your family. Be of good cheer, my beloved 
Renee.’’ 

He had kissed her warmly and she had given 
back his caress with interest, contented, cou- 
rageous, resigned, since he still loved her. And 
now, to find that it was all a sham, a deceit, 
a fraud — 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


175 


The train of her reflections was here inter- 
rupted by the voice of the baron at her side. 

“Here we are, madame,^’ he was saying. 

“Is this the house.^’^ she asked hastily, look- 
ing out of the carriage window. 

“That is it — with the light in the window. 

“Tell the man to stop then,’’ she said, in a 
suffocated voice. 

“No, we had better wait further down the 
street.” 

“Are you afraid 

“Of your husband.^” laughing. “Oh, no. 
But I remember what you have in your pocket 
and I don’t wish to run the risk of a scandal, 
of a murder, perhaps.” 

The carriage stopped a few houses further 
down the street. From its rear window the 
front of the house where her erring husband 
was supposed to be was plainly visible, lighted 
by a street lamp in front of it. With her face 
glued to the window-pane she waited and 
watched in silence. Presently a carriage drew 
up in front of the door. In a few moments 
the door opened and two people issued from 
it — a female figure evidently dressed in ball- 


176 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

costume and — yes, there could be no mistake 
about it — Paul, her husband. His hat was 
drawn down over his eyes and the collar of his 
overcoat was turned up. But she knew the 
figure and the walk too well. She turned, and 
half blinded by the blood that seemed to 
stream up into her face and eyes from her 
over-charged heart, turning everything to a 
horrible crimson, groped for the handle of the 
door. 

“Where are you going?’^ she heard the baron 
say. His voice sounded a long way off. 

She made no answer but opened the door 
and placed one foot upon the carriage step. 
Then a rough hand was laid upon her arm and 
she felt herself lifted in a pair of muscular 
arms and drawn back into the carriage. She 
was crushed against the baron’s breast and 
felt his bearded lips upon her mouth. 

“Renee!’’ he whispered, passionately. 

At the same time she heard the other car- 
riage drive rapidly away. 

“Renee,” the baron continued, “your hus- 
band has abandoned you for another. Let 
me be the instrument of your revenge. Be 


mine. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


177 


She felt in her pocket for the revolver. But 
at the same moment it was wrenched from 
her grasp and she heard the baron’s voice call- 
ing to the coachman to drive on. Then she 
lost consciousness. 


CHAPTER XIII 

At about six o’clock the next morning 
Madame de Bressieres came to the door of 
the hotel in the Rue Saint-Dominique. She 
presented a most deplorable appearance. Her 
clothes were soiled with mud and soaked with 
rain. Her features were haggard, her hair 
disheveled and there was a half insane glare in 
her eyes. She looked long and anxiously at 
the house and three times turned away from 
it before she could summon up courage to pro- 
duce her night-key and let herself in. Then 
she stood for some moments still and trem- 
bling in the dark hallway. All was silent; 
the household slept. Slowly and painfully she 
began to creep up the stairs. As she reached 
the door of her husband’s room, which had 
to be passed before she could arrive at her own 
chamber, it was suddenly opened from within, 
and the silhouette of Paul presented itself 
178 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


179 


against the background of light that issued 
from the chamber. 

“Where have you been?” he said, coldly 
looking down upon the disheveled figure that 
crouched before him. 

“Kill me,” his wife moaned, clasping her 
hands miserably before her. face. 

“I think you had better go to your room,” 
was his sole response to this appeal. 

“Kill me — for God’s sake, kill me!” the 
wretched woman continued to murmur, sup- 
plicatingly. 

The count shrugged his shoulders, con- 
temptuously. 

“Why should I? It seems to me you are 
rather worse than dead already.” 

He turned and entered his room, shutting 
the door behind him and leaving his wife out- 
side in the darkness. She groped her way to 
her own chamber and locked herself within. 

At nine o’clock Augustine brought a note 
to her mistress. It read as follows: 

“Madame: — To-day I leave the country. 
Forget me and forgive me. I was unworthy 
of you. I do not know of what you have 


i8o 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


been guilty nor do I seek to know. I simply 
go away. I leave our child with you. Adieu.” 

‘‘Has monsieur gone out.^^” Renee asked 
the servant. 

“Yes, madame. Monsieur instructed his 
valet to pack his trunks at once.” 

“Very well. Go.” 

“Has madame thought of her promise to 
have me paid.^” 

“You will get your money to-day without 
fail.” 

“Thank you, madame, I rely on your word.” 

A few moments later Augustine knocked on 
her mistress’ door again. 

“What is it.^” the countess asked from 
within. 

“Madame’s father is below.” 

“My father!” 

“With Mademoiselle Colette.” 

“Tell them I am suffering and can’t see 
them just now.” 

“Yes, madame,” wonderingly. 

“Stay! I believe I am crazy this morning. 
Ask my father to wait for me below. See 
that he has something to eat if he has not yet 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET l8l 

breakfasted. Ask Mademoiselle Dumontheil 
to come up here. Tell my father that I have 
a bad headache and am not yet up.^’ 

Presently there was another knock at the 
door. Renee opened it. Colette stood before 
her. She held out her arms and the young 
wife threw herself into them sobbing as if her 
heart would break. Colette drew her sister 
within, shut the door, and seated Renee and 
herself on the bed. 

“Poor dear! Poor dear! How you must 
have suffered,’’ she said., stroking her sister’s 
disheveled hair with her cool palm. 

“Oh, Colette!” sobbed the other, “I have 
been very wicked. Can you forgive me } I 
have been cruelly punished.” 

“Yes, I know, dear. Don’t cry so. It’s 
all right. There — there! I know you have 
suffered. But it will all come right. Your fort- 
unes will mend again.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind the money. But Paul — ” 

“What about Paul.^” 

“He has left me.” 

“Impossible!” 

“Yes. He leaves the country to-day. Oh, 


i 82 the perfume of the violet 

it is my fault — I have been very, very wicked 
— but — but not what he thinks, oh, not what 
he thinks!” 

“My dear girl,” Colette began in her reso- 
lute way, which was at the same time both 
gentle and reassuring, “you must tell me about 
this. It is more serious than I supposed. 
Your father and I have come after you to take 
you home. We knew that your money was 
all gone. Now tell me what worse than that 
has happened.” 

“It was Verdac’s fault.” 

“Verdac! Oh, Renee, have you permitted 
that man at last to come between you and 
your husband.^ I have warned you against 
him for years past.” 

“Listen. Verdac came to me last night and 
told me of my husband’s relations with a 
famous — or infamous — woman of the theaters. 
I had long suspected it but I had no proofs. 
He offered them to me. Tempted by I know 
not what of mad rage and jealousy, I went 
with him. He did show me my husband in 
company with the woman. When I would 
have left the carriage in which we were to go 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 183 

to them, he forcibly detained me. I lost con- 
sciousness and when I recovered it I found 
myself walking on the street. The night was 
very dark and there was a heavy drizzling rain 
mingled with a fog so thick that I could hardly 
see a rod in front of me. I did not know in 
what part of Paris I was nor what time it was 
until I heard a neighboring clock strike. It 
was eleven. Then I knew that I had not been 
long unconscious in the carriage with Verdac. 
I do not know — I do not dare to think— what 
his intentions were. But he had evidently 
become frightened and had deposited me in 
the street in a half unconscious condition. 
Then it came to me in what a dreadful posi- 
tion I had placed myself. My husband would 
never believe me innocent; he would never 
forgive me for having played the spy upon 
him. Then I thought of our desperate financial 
straits — everything gone — house, money, es- 
tate, and now my husband lost to me. I 
suppose I became really insane for a time. I 
know the thought of suicide came to me. I 
determined to drown myself.” 

‘‘My poor, poor Renee.” 


184 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘But I could not find the river. I suppose 
I spent hours in those terrible streets looking 
for it. Occasionally some dreadful man or 
some still more dreadful woman would speak 
to me and laugh as I hastened away from 
them. Oh, Colette, I never imagined before 
what horrible places are the streets of Paris 
by night ! They look so cheerful and bright 
by day, you’d never think they could be so 
wicked and dreadful at night. By and by I 
found myself upon the Pont Neuf. I don’t 
know how I got there but I recognized the 
place at once. I remember I stood leaning 
over the parapet for a long time watching the 
slimy water as it crawled sluggishly along be- 
neath. I was wet through and shivering with 
cold. I suppose the sense of this made me 
think of the deadly coldness of the water be- 
low and I shrank away from it. Then I 
thought what a dreadful thing I should be 
when they fished me out and took me to the 
morgue, all dead and broken and horrible. 
And then the people that would gaze at me 
and the hands that would touch me as I lay 
there dead! These thoughts drove the cour- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 1 85 

age out of me and finally I crept away from 
the place. Then I determined to go home. 
Perhaps my husband would kill me when he 
saw me. That was my thought. I remember 
I asked him to. But he only turned away 
from me contemptuously as if I were dirt from 
the street. Afterward he sent me this.” 

Renee handed her sister the note she had 
received from Paul. Colette glanced it over 
rapidly and then fixed her steady gaze upon the 
young wife’s face. 

“You see what he thinks of me. He de- 
spises me and wants to get rid of me. He 
will despise me more perhaps when he knows 
the truth. Oh, I do not know what to do ! 
I am too miserable to live and too cowardly 
to die. Oh! oh! oh!” 

Mademoiselle Dumontheil sat silent listen- 
ing to her sister’s lamentations. Renee con- 
tinued to weep aloud for some time. But 
gradually her sobs died away until she sat still 
and dejected upon the bed with her face 
buried in her handkerchief, an occasional 
tremor of the shoulders alone marking the 
continued presence of the storm. Then the 


1 86 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

older sister spoke to her in the calm, sweet 
voice that she remembered so well. Renee 
thought it strange that she had never before 
noticed how musical and evenly modulated 
it was. 

“Listen,” said Colette; “I know little of life 
and especially of fashionable life in these big 
cities. But I put my trust in God and I am 
sure he will inspire me with the knowledge of 
how to aid you. Do not weep any more. I 
feel that the worst is over. Light is at hand.” 

Presently Augustine came to advise her 
mistress that the count had returned. Colette 
descended and found Paul in conversation 
with her father. She asked the latter to ex- 
cuse him, telling Bressieres that she wanted a 
few moments of private conversation with 
him in the library. Arrived there, she turned 
to him and said: 

“Renee has told me all, sir.” 

“What do you mean.^” 

“I mean that you are doing your wife a 
great wrong when you suspect her of disloy- 
alty.” 

“Bah! She left here at half past nine last 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


187 


night with that black scoundrel Verdac and 
returned to the house this morning at six. I 
wonder she took the trouble to return at all. 
Rats have a way of deserting sinking ships.’’ 

‘‘You may thank your God, count, that she 
did return at all. Otherwise, the remorse of 
a lifetime would not expiate the wrong you 
have done her in your thoughts.” 

“You will excuse me, but important busi- 
ness awaits my attention. I am about to leave 
the country, as perhaps my wife has told you.” 

“You must not go until you have seen Renee 
again and begged her forgiveness.” 

“I beg forgiveness.?” 

“Remember where you were last night and 
with whom.” 

“So my wife has set spies on me, has she.?” 

“Not at all. You forget that your intimate 
friend, the Baron de Verdac, is privy to your 
wrong-doing. You will pardon me, but I can 
use no kinder word to characterize it.” 

“Has Verdac betrayed me.?” 

“Listen. Baron de Verdac, as you know, 
was at one time a suitor for my hand. Re- 
cently it has been my wish to get at a clear 


1 88 THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

understanding of how your affairs really stood 
as I hoped to be able to aid you for my sister’s 
sake. I applied to Verdac. I think you know 
him well enough to believe that if he could 
see a personal advantage to himself to be 
gained by betraying you, he would betray you. 
I made it worth his while to speak. I have 
long known the story of your — wrong-doing. 
Last night, my father and I came up to Paris 
to take my sister home. We knew your course 
of life was ended here. I commissioned Ver- 
dac to bring Renee to the train to meet us last 
night. I wished to know what her feelings 
on the subject were before speaking to you 
this morning. It seems that after they had 
left the house last night, the baron, inspired 
by an unholy passion for your wife, addressed 
her improperly and had not God interfered to 
protect her you might indeed be a dishonored 
husband this morning. Happily she escaped 
the.baron. She was in a distant and unknown 
part of Paris. She wandered about for hours 
trying to find her way home. Finally, over- 
come by the thought that you would believe 
her guilty when you returned to the hotel and 


THE PERFUME OF. THE VIOLET 1 89 

found her gone off with Verdac, and sick and 
discouraged with the long struggle against 
hope of the past few months, she lost her mind 
and determined to commit suicide. Happily 
for you, sir, and for all of us, she had not the 
physical courage to carry out her determina- 
tion. So she wandered home to you this 
morning. You remember how 3'’ou received 
the poor half-crazed woman. Paul, did I not 
speak the truth when I said you would not 
leave the country until you had first seen 
Renee and begged her forgiveness.^’^ 

The young count looked at Colette for a 
moment, with glistening ,eyes. 

“You are a saint from heaven,” he said. 
Then he turned and left the room. A mo- 
ment after she heard his footsteps on the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Finally, all of Count Paul’s creditors were 
paid off in full. The principal one was Mon- 
sieur Maclard, who received his money through 
the sale of the chateau, which Monsieur Lean- 
der bought in at a price sufficient to indem- 
nify the usurer for his advances, principal and 
interest. The rest got theirs for the most 
part out of the proceeds of the sale of the hotel 
in the Rue de la Saint-Dominique, the horses, 
carriages and furniture. The balance was 
made up by Renee’s father out of the settle- 
ments of his wife and mother and the savings 
he had laid aside for the marriage portion of 
Colette. Mademoiselle Dumontheil, on her 
part, sacrificed her own small economies in 
order to get some jewelry, that Renee was 
particularly fond of, out of the pawnshops. 

The journey of the father and his two 
daughters and son-in-law from Paris to Nou- 
tron was a melancholy experience for all of 
190 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET IQI 

them, notwithstanding Colette’s brave en- 
deavors to keep up the spirits of the others. 
From the station at Thiviers Paul went 
directly to the chateau, going part way by 
stage to Pardoux, and the rest on foot. The 
two girls accompanied their father to his home 
in Noutron. The next morning they drove 
out in the carriage to Saint-Front. A sorry 
trip it was for the young countess. How well 
she remembered the joy and pride she had 
experienced when last she had traversed those 
streets, a bride. She shrunk back into a corner 
of the old carriage now- to avoid the curious 
glances directed at her from the sidewalks and 
the windows of the houses — houses which 
had such a familiar look and yet seemed the 
abodes of strangers. 

Renee was dressed richly in a traveling cos- 
tume of English woolen cloth, with a coat of 
otter-skin, a dainty hat of black lace set off 
with pink azaleas, muff and boa of blue fox, 
mousquetaire gloves, the last remnants of the 
luxury which she worshiped so passionately, 
but which was now forever lost to her. The 
contrast which her costume presented to the 


192 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


plain clothes of her tall sister and still more 
to the shabbiness of the country carryall in 
which she was riding, brought this latter fact 
home to her mind more forcibly, and the poor, 
silly, little, blonde woman could not restrain 
the tears that would force themselves to her 
eyes. She put her handkerchief in front of 
her face and permitted herself the luxury of a 
good cry. 

Meanwhile old Ferdinand, a model of pru- 
dence and slowness, was permitting his old 
mare to take her own time in dragging the 
despised carryall, with its shabby, rattling 
hood and its squeaking springs and creaking 
axle-trees, up the long, wet street. Presently 
Renee called to him petulantly from behind 
her handkerchief: 

“Ferdinand, get along, will you.? I never 
saw even you so slow before.’’ 

“It is Cocotte’s fault, mistress. She is very 
old, you know. I have to be very careful 
how I drive her.” 

In the course of time they reached Saint- 
Front. The two sisters got out at the Rouil- 
hats’ while Ferdinand drove on with Renee’s 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 1 93 

trunks to the chateau. But Renee did not 
stay long . The old couple, despite the tender 
supplications of their adopted daughter, re- 
ceived their grandchild coldly, almost brutally. 
They did not try to conceal the fact that they 
looked upon her as an interloper or perhaps 
even an enemy. So she was glad enough to 
make her escape when Ferdinand came back 
for her with the carryall. After she had gone, 
the old farmer said gruffly to Colette: 

“Your sister has made away with your fort- 
une for you. I want you to understand that 
she shall never have any part of mine.^^ 

“Father,” said Colette, “you will be just 
and merciful to her when the time comes, I 
know. You will remember that Renee is your 
only grandchild.” 

“You are my only child — my only heir.” 

“But I cannot accept that.” 

“Hush! Hush, I say.” 

Over in the old chateau, the four, father, 
mother, son and daughterdn-law, began to 
count the days which still remained to them 
before the date of their final dislodgement. 
The marchioness, frightened at the somber 


194 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


despair painted on her husband’s countenance, 
sought consolation in the hopes and promises 
of her children. But it was in vain for Renee 
to suggest their taking refuge in the home of 
her parents in Noutron, in vain for Paul to de- 
clare that he would go abroad and conquer 
fortune for them all, in vain the marchioness 
spoke of the goodness of God and of his never- 
ending pity and compassion — nothing that they 
could say or suggest had power to dissipate the 
dumb despair that had taken possession of the 
old marquis. A sad smile would come to his 
features as he listened to them, but there was 
no light, no hope in the look which accom- 
panied it. He scarcely ate at all, never spoke, 
and slept but little. He became so emaciated 
that his clothing flapped about his long, gaunt 
limbs. He would pass from room to room 
of the big house without making the slightest 
noise, and with his long white beard rivaling 
the pallor of his countenance he reminded one 
for all the world of some ancestral ghost come 
out of his grave to patrol his former home and 
guard it against the advent of the Vandals 
who were seeking to despoil and destroy it. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


195 


Misfortune followed misfortune. The Mar- 
euil ladies took this opportunity to enter a 
convent, taking their fortune with them, so 
that all hope of succor from that quarter was 
destroyed. The sale of the chateau and 
demesne had been expected to produce a large 
surplus over and above the amount needed to 
pay off the debts. But Maclard and old Lean- 
der had managed so shrewdly that this 
amount was reduced to the merest pittance. 

For a time the family actually lived upon 
secret charity. Colette acted as purveyor and 
the marquis observed her one day delivering 
a hamper of provisions to the old gardener’s 
wife. Some of these supplies came from the 
Chazeaus, but most from the Rouilhats, 
though quite without the knowledge of the 
land-speculator himself. This latter fact be- 
came also known to the poor old marquis and 
then his haughty soul revolted indeed. He 
had been able to stomach the bread that was 
sent to them from Renee’s parents but that 
that came from his ancient peasant enemy, 
who was at last triumphing over him after a 
half century of threats, choked him. When 


196 


THE perfume of THE VIOLET 


he learned whence it came he got up from the 
table and spat it out as if it had contained 
poison. 

The thought of suicide never left him. At 
first he hoped his wife would join him but her 
religious scruples caused him to drpp this idea. 
Besides, he argued to himself, a woman is 
more deserving of pity than a man and suffers 
less when she is the recipient of it. But he 
made up his mind to die himself. He would 
send the family away, set fire to the chateau 
and burn himself up with it, standing down 
there in the picture-gallery in the presence of 
the portfaits of his ancestors. 

This would be cheating no one, he argued, 
for it was a well-known fact that the demesne 
that surrounded the house was alone well 
worth the price given by those who had pur- 
chased castle and lands both. 

But the old gentleman never found an op- 
portunity to put this plan into execution. 
The family refused to move away from the 
chateau and he himself was kept under close 
surveillance. 

Finally, one evening during a visit of the 



9 








j * 


/ 


> 


* ■ 

I 



« 



I 





1 


f 


« . »'« 

'4 •. 


« 


K 



» 




V • 

. «. 


• n 

*■ "f 


\ 



t 


• » 


: 

m ^ 




f 




.». . 

>* 


J 


f'fv '^[ s 
■I J „ • 


•V* W 


4 

♦ 



t 


» 





’4/ " I • » 

y, ' 



r 



» 

•% 










4 


I 





HR TOOK THE CRUCIFIX FROM HIS POCKET, WHICH HE REGARDED FIXEDLY.” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


197 


Chazeaus, Madame Clorinde and Mademoiselle 
Dumontheil, the marquis all of a sudden 
seemed to come out of the fog of despair in 
which he had been groping for weeks. He 
became his old bright self again, talked and 
laughed with the others and even took an in- 
terest in the projects of his son for engaging in 
business abroad, which came up for discussion. 
So when the visitors took their leave nobody 
paid much attention to the fact that the old 
gentleman had gone for a walk in the park 
after the Chazeaus’ carriage drove off. 

He walked up and down for several mo- 
ments until finally he came to an alley bor- 
^ dered by large linden trees. Here he sat 
down upon a bench, and took a crucifix from 
his pocket, which he regarded fixedly while 
his lips moved in a rapid prayer. When this 
was finished, he kissed the figure of the Christ 
upon the cross, and drawing a dagger plunged 
it into his breast with so much force that the 
point of the blade broke off in his body. A 
second time he struck himself with the blunted 
weapon. Then he fell from the seat to the 
ground, but gathering his remaining force he 


igS THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 

began to crawl toward one of the linden trees 
as if with the intention of dashing out his 
brains against its solid trunk. The gardener 
found him, some time later, lying there in the 
pathway. The old gentleman had fainted 
from loss of blood. He was carried into the 
house and the doctor, the priest, and some 
sisters of charity hastily summoned. Doctor 
Bordesonle, the leading physician of the 
vicinage, gave it as his opinion that the wound 
of the marquis was not mortal but that he 
would have to stay in bed for a fortnight, a 
month perhaps. Meanwhile, he would need 
the most careful nursing and during his con- 
valescence he must have the best of nourish- 
ment to give his old frame strength to recover 
from the shock it had received. At the thought 
that he was going to become a still greater 
burden and expense upon the family of his 
son’s wife, the poor old gentleman implored 
the physician to give him his quietus with 
some deadly drug. But what was the worst 
torture for the marquis to bear was the fact 
that his wife and son would now have to go to 
the purchaser of the chateau and beg him to 
put off the date of his entry. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


199 


About this time Monsieur Leander brought 
home to dinner with him one day Monsieur 
Edmond Lagarde, the notary of Piegnt, of 
whom mention has been made. He was a 
good-looking young man with a swarthy com- 
plexion, brown, curling mustache, and pleas- 
ant-looking blue eyes. He had just been ad- 
mitted to the bar at Bordeaux, had bought out 
a business and was the candidate proposed 
by the old farmer for the hand of his adopted 
daughter. 

Edmond was an enthusiastic wooer and Co- 
lette soon found herself becoming interested 
in him. But she persisted in her refusal to give 
any satisfactory answer to his proposal. 

‘H tell you,’’ urged old Leander, ^^he’s the 
best match there is in the department of the 
Dordogne.” 

^‘He is an excellent young man,” added 
Madame Honorine. 

^‘Do make up your mind to have him, Co- 
lette.” 

“That’s a dear!” 

“He worships the ground you walk upon!’' 

“You will be very happy as his wife.” , 


200 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


“I tell you,’’ was the steady reply of the 
young woman to all these urgings, “that as 
long as my sister is suffering as she is I will 
not marry. I would not, I could not be 
happy.” 

Monsieur Lagarde, puzzled by the strange 
conduct of the young girl, who seemed to care 
for him and yet repulsed him persistently, 
was unremitting in his attentions. Finally, 
one day, she told him how she felt. With the 
tears standing in her fine eyes, she told him 
that while she would be proud and glad to be- 
come his wife, she could never bring herself 
to despoil her father’s wife and daughter of 
what was justly theirs. She never would per- 
mit her adopted parents to do for her what 
they proposed, which was nothing less than 
to give her half their property on her marriage 
and the remainder on their decease, with the 
condition attached that she should never 
alienate it or any part of it. 

“Am I right or not.^” she asked, in conclu- 
sion. 

“You are right!” exclaimed the lover, “and 
if your parents do not yield I am the most 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


201 


miserable of men. For I must sustain you in 
the very decision that keeps you from me. 
And I love you and revere you more than ever 
for making it.’^ 

Monsieur Lagarde went to the old people 
and did his best to turn them from their pur- 
pose. He told them that he did not want 
their fortune but only Colette. Their daugh- 
ter, granddaughter and great-grandson were 
entitled to at least one-half of the estate. 
But the old man was obdurate and his wife 
sided with him. 

‘‘You are talking foolishly, Monsieur La- 
garde, said Monsieur Rouilhat. “But you 
will come to your senses before long and so 
will Colette.” 

Meanwhile, he continued making his 
arrangements for the demolition of the cha- 
teau. He met, at the village inn, almost 
nightly, a number of the other peasant-farmers 
of the country-side, who were interested in 
the matter as future purchasers of the build- 
ing materials which would result therefrom 
and possibly also of the demesne. Amidst 
many potations the values of these were dis- 


202 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


cussed and wrangled over and Leander was 
never weary of repeating the phrase which had 
now become almost as famous among his 
neighbors as the ‘Melenda est Carthago” of 
Cato became at Rome just before the third 
Punic war. 

“We’ll have the old barracks down as soon 
as the marquis gets well,” he would say, with 
a grin. 

One night, as he was entering the house 
after spending the evening at the inn, Colette 
met him in the hallway: 

“You know what you are doing is wrong,” 
she said to him, looking up at him with the 
steadfast look on her face which the old man 
adored, “since you conceal yourself at the inn 
while you do it.” 

“I conceal myself! Humph! What for, 
I should like to know.^ Do I owe any one any- 
thing? Or have I robbed any one?” 

He went into the sitting-room and threw 
himself on a big easy-chair. Colette knelt at 
his side. 

“Father,” she said, “you are ruining my life. 
You have heard what Monsieur Lagarde says. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


203 


He agrees with me entirely. Oh, be good to 
me. Be generous to me. You know you 
made an enormous sum by that forced sale of 
the chateau. The lands alone are worth what 
you gave for all. Leave the chateau to — ” 

‘‘The Bressieres? Girl, you are mad.” 

“No. But to Renee, to your granddaughter. 
That will be different.” 

“Nonsense, nonsense, my dear.” 

Then he stood up suddenly and seizing the 
wrists of the young girl who still knelt before 
him, he exclaimed, passionately: 

“Unhappy girl, do you know what you are 
asking.^ Do you know that for fifty years I 
have been waiting for that chateau, that I 
have toiled and struggled and suffered so that 
I might one day possess it and tear it down ? 
Do you not see that those heavy walls and 
those haughty turrets weigh me to the earth, 
that while that hpuse stands I cannot breathe, 
eat, sleep or live.^ When I look at it my 
lungs refuse their office, and I suffocate. 
When it is gone our house will be the queen 
and I the king of the whole country-side !” 

“Are you not so now 


204 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


‘‘No, daughter, no. What would my neigh- 
bors say if they saw me hesitate — I who 
laughed them to scorn, and preached .to them 
of their duties and their rights, of the princi- 
ples of ’89, of the Code, of the law, on that 
day years ago when this fellow Paul was de- 
stroying their vines with his horses and hounds 
and threatened them with his gun for protest- 
ing. What would they say of old Leander then ? 
No, Colette, I will do anything else that 
you wish, but not that, not that. Never! Do 
you hear, never!” 

“Father!” 

“Leave me, I say.” 


CHAPTER XV 


In spite of the care lavished upon their pa- 
tient by Doctor Bordesonle, the Bressieres 
ladies and Paul, he mended very slowly. The 
disordered physical state of the old man was 
aggravated by the mental and moral suffering 
which continued to harass him. The healing 
of the wound became a very difficult thing to 
accomplish on account of the feverish and 
nervous attacks to which the patient was con- 
stantly subject. One day Colette came and 
offered her services as a nurse. They were 
thankfully accepted by the old marchioness 
and Renee who were nearly worn out by their 
constant watching. Presently it became evi- 
dent that the marquis preferred her ministra- 
tions to those of his w’ife and daughter-in-law. 
Soon he got so that he would not let any one 
touch his bandages but his new nurse. About 
this time, when her nights were all passed at 
the bedside of the aged marquis and her days 
205 


2o6 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


were all spent in combating the prejudices 
of her adopted father and mother, Colette 
began to keep a diary from which the author 
has taken the liberty of making the following 
extracts: 

January 25, 1881. 

It was three o’clock this morning and snow- 
ing hard when I left the chateau. Meville, 
the gardener’s wife, walked home with me. 
The light from the lantern she carried seemed 
to turn the snowy road to a golden hue 
as we passed along. Beyond its reach every- 
thing was a dead white — the sky, the river, 
the land. At the four corners of La Belle- 
terie, the big iron cross reared itself in the 
midst of the white landscape, like a great 
black giant with outstretched arms. When I 
got home I walked quietly up the yard to the 
house with our two big watch-dogs on either 
side of me, licking my hands. • Monsieur Le- 
ander was waiting for me in the hallway, 
‘‘You bad girl,’^ he exclaimed, “do you want 
to kill yourself Madame Honorine was in 
the kitchen and made me drink a cup of hot 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


207 


milk before I vFent to bed. How the dear 
old things did expostulate with me for being 
kind-hearted! 


January 27. 

The marquis is a little better. Paul has 
made up his mind to seek his fortune abroad. 
Renee wants to go with her husband but he 
thinks she will not be able to bear the hard- 
ships of the life he will have to lead. So he 
will go alone. 

January 28. 

Edmond Lagarde passed to-day at Saint- 
Front. What a noble nature it is! The 
better I know him the more I appreciate this 
fact and the prouder I feel that I shall one 
day be his wife. Alas! though, how often 
our hopes fail of realization ! 

January 30. 

To-day 1 went to Noutron and brought my 
sister’s little boy out to visit his grandparents. 
Once, while the little fellow was sitting in 
Monsieur Rouilhat’s lap playing with his long 


2o8 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


beard, I tried to lead the conversation in the 
direction of the poor people up at the chateau. 
But Monsieur Leander was perverse and would 
not listen to me. 


February i. 

Madame Anna is preparing an apartment 
for the marquis and marchioness at her house 
in Noutron. There will be a sitting-room and 
two bed-chambers overlooking the street. 
They are being painted, carpeted and fur- 
nished all new. Assuredly the Bressieres are 
going to want for nothing but I dread to think 
of the day when it will become necessary for 
the old gentleman to leave the chateau. 

February 6. 

Yesterday Paul sailed from Havre for Rio 
Janeiro. None of his former city friends would 
have recognized their old companion in the 
quiet, determined-looking man. May God 
protect him! Now that he is gone I must be 
more devoted than before to my dear sister. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


209 


February 10. 

To-day Monsieur Rouilhat went to Piegnt 
where there is a fair. On his return he came 
to me and declared that I was ruining the life 
of Monsieur Lagarde. Is it my fault ? Do 
your own duty, father, to your granddaughter 
and those poor gentle-people at the chateau. 
Then you may call upon me to do what you 
conceive to be mine with respect to Edmond 
and I will respond willingly. 


February 12. 

The sick man to-day tried to get out of bed 
and walk about his chamber. As a conse- 
quence he suffered a relapse. His fever in- 
creased seriously. Doctor Bordesonle was 
sent for. When he came away from the cha- 
teau he came to our house. He is a cousin 
of Edmond and he came to urge me to con- 
sent to marry him at once. When he found 
that I would not yield he became rather severe, 
I thought, upon what he called my Quixotism. 
But I cannot yield. Maybe the doctor will 
now join me in working to overcome the de- 
termination of Monsieur Leander. He is very 
fond of his cousin. 14 . 


210 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


February 14. 

Renee is becoming more and more amiable 
and helpful every day. Her character has 
changed for the better very perceptibly since 
her return from Paris. Her parents and the 
Bressieres perceive it. Her grandparents will 
recognize it in time and do their granddaugh- 
ter justice. 


February 17. 

To-day is my birthday. I have been look- 
ing back upon my past life and, oh, with what 
a feeling of thankfulness! How those poor 
girls, born out of wedlock as I was, are to be 
pitied when they lose their mothers — if their 
fathers forget them'i 


February 18. 

To-day is Mardi-gras. It has been a gloomy 
day without and within, though there was 
plenty to eat and to drink. Always before, we 
have had the Chazeau family and some other 
friends to dine with us. Nobody came to-day. 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


2II 


February 19. 

After the carnival, the Ceitdres! But I 
have not been able to perceive any difference. 
Both are sorrowful, this year. 

February 20. 

Last Saturday as I was getting out of the 
carriage at Noutron, big Monsieur Laborde, 
who keeps the Cafe de la Rotonde and who 
is an old friend of papa’s, met me. ‘‘Ah!” 
said he, “dear young lady, I remember the 
day your father got the telegram announcing 
your mother’s death, sixteen years ago. A 
lot of us were on the balcony of my place when 
he went by from the court-house, with the 
dispatch fluttering in his hands. We thought 
he was distracted by some very bad news. 
Ah, well, well, it was a good thing for him he 
went to Paris to fetch you. You are an 
honor to him. Miss Colette, both because of 
your beauty and your goodness.” 

It makes me almost blush to put this down, 
but no one will see it, and I love to know that 
they all think kindly of me. Sometime, when 
I am down-hearted, I can turn to this entry 
and get consolation from it. 


212 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


1 met at Madame Annans Monsieur Jean 
Tolbiac, the novelist, quite a young man, a 
native of Noutron, who was down from Paris 
on a visit to his family. During the course of 
the conversation Madame Anna asked him : 
‘‘Why do you never write a story, sir, that 
every one can read, even young girls?’^ Mon- 
sieur Tolbiac was a little nettled, I thought, 
but he replied, laughingly: “Madame, young 
girls have never asked me to write that kind, 
of a story.” I thought it was a pretty clever 
retort. It made Madame Chazeau laugh 
heartily. Afterward there was a discussion 
about the modern young woman which inter- 
ested me greatly. I heard what the mothers 
had to say on the subject and what were Mon- 
sieur Tolbiac’s views. I am going to get some 
books and read up about it. I really want to 
know what we modern young women really 
are. 


February 27. 

Yesterday was Sunday and I spent all day 
finding out from books what the modern 
young woman is. I find that one class of ob- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


213 


servers have discovered that she is a species 
of monkey, who is to be taught to smile, to 
grimace and to make courtesies — a puppet 
without mind or soul. Other people think 
she is a problem, an equation, a being very 
difficult to understand or to analyze. Some 
of them believe the English or American sys- 
tem of education for women is superior to ours. 
They hold that she should have liberty, the 
right to flirt with young men if she chooses, 
and, at all events, to get acquainted with them 
and with herself before she marries. Others 
declare for the French plan and argue that the 
whole work of forming the daughter should be 
committed to the mother. I am not much of 
a philosopher, and less of a radical. In read- 
ing all these arguments founded upon so-called 
psychology and pathology it has seemed to 
me that they do not after all lead any-whither. 
I can’t think of anything better for any one 
to do than to live the best life they know how 
— to love those who are about them and to 
make themselves worthy of being loved. It 
seems to me that all happiness and all good- 
ness consists in this.’’ 


214 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


While Colette was thus committing her im- 
pressions to paper she was persistent in her 
prayers to her adopted father to take Renee 
into his good graces again. She waged 
uninterrupted warfare with him and she dis- 
played the steadiest and most unflinching 
courage in the presence of the enemy. She 
felt that she was fighting for the peace and 
happiness of her entire world, and she never 
faltered and she never rested. Her weapons 
were caresses, smiles, kisses, cajoleries, the 
most artful flatteries, and of these ammuni- 
tions of war she appeared to possess arsenals 
that were practically exhaustless. The vain old 
farmer began to find himself much battered, 
withal. He quite knew himself to be in the 
right and was much amazed to perceive that 
he was gradually getting the worst of it. 
More than once he thought of capitulating, 
but the thought of what his neighbors would 
say held him back. He had always been a 
rough and uncompromising fighter and he 
was feared and respected in the country-side, 
accordingly. He was proud of the dominion 
he had obtained over the minds of his neigh- 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


215 


bors. He wanted them to be afraid 6f him. 
The only thing he could think of that he was 
afraid of himself was that they should cease 
to fear him. “What would the neighbors say.^” 
was therefore a serious conundrum to Mon- 
sieur Leander. 

But he loved his adopted daughter with an 
intensity that his neighbors would have mar- 
veled at (had they understood it) even more 
than at any signs of lenity he might have ex- 
hibited. She dominated him absolutely, as 
spirit dominates matter. The hot, rebellious 
blood would boil up within him from time to 
time and he would silence her peremptorily. 
But the cool, calm, forceful influence would 
steal back upon him and take possession of 
him again. He yearned to yield to it, but 
dared not. In such a warfare, it was not diffi- 
cult to determine which would be the con- 
queror in the long run. 

The day arrived at last when, the marquis 
having completely recovered from his wound, 
it became necessary for the family to move 
away from the chateau. All their belongings 
were packed and Renee had come over to her 


2i6 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


grand-father’s house to say good-bye to 
Colette. The two sisters stood locked in each 
other’s arms. Renee was crying bitterly. 
There was the same brave, steadfast look on the 
older sister’s face as she glanced down upon 
the weeping countess. But she was white and 
there was a drawn look on her features as if 
she, too, suffered intensely. 

‘‘I have done my best, Renee,” she was 
murmuring soothingly in the latter’s ear. ‘‘I 
have not succeeded so far. But I shall — I 
shall.” 

The old farmer, pipe in mouth, was walking 
nervously up and down the room. Madame 
Honorine sat at the window, looking off at the 
landscape, with an expectant air upon her as 
though she were listening for something. 

Presently the old man stopped in front of 
the two girls. His face was red and his man- 
ner confused. 

^‘Colette,” he said, abruptly, “the chateau 
of Saint-Front is your property.” 

She looked in his face, for a moment, at- 
tentively. 

“May I do with it as I'please?” she asked, 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


217 


“Yes.” 

“Thank you, father.” 

The old man walked over to the window 
where his wife sat and raised the sash. Then 
he stuck his head out and, in a stentorian 
voice, roared: 

“You people over there at the chateau can 
unpack your things, Colette says. Put the 
pictures back on the walls. Our portraits — 
mine and Honorine’s — will never be hung up 
there, and may the devil take the whole busi- 
ness!” 


CHAPTER XVI 


But little remains to add. Colette mar- 
ried Edmond Lagarde. She is now the mother 
of a beautiful little girl, Lea, which is the 
diminutive of its godfather’s name, Leander. 
The count has returned from Rio Janiero, 
rich, and now lives very happily with Renee 
and his parents in the old chateau. 

One Sunday the Bressieres,. the Rouilhats 
and the Lagardes were all invited to dine with 
the Chazeaus. After dinner, as it was a pleas- 
ant evening, all adjourned to the garden where 
coffee was served by old Margaret, who is still 
attached to’ the fortunes of the Chazeau 
family. Louis-Raymond and Lea, the chil- 
dren of the two sisters, played with each other 
in peace and harmony until presently little 
Lea, being seized with a desire for one of her 
cousin’s toys and not being able to get him to 
give it to her, began to cry for it. The count- 
ess went to her and took her in her arms, 
218 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


219 


and learning what was the matter whispered 
something in the child’s ear. Lea looked into 
her aunt’s face for a moment and stopped 
crying; then she began playing again perfect- 
ly contented with her own toys. 

^‘You seem to have put Lea under a spell, 
Renee,” said Madame Lagarde, laughingly. 
“Tell us what incantation you whispered in 
her ear just now that made her cease crying 
so suddenly.” 

“First, I promised her a new doll if she 
would stop crying. But that had no effect. 
So then I whispered to her: ‘Ask your 
mother for a little sister, darling. A sister is 
worth more than all the dollies in creation.’” 

Renee, her eyes brimming with happy 
tears, turned to her mother, and continued: 

“When father first told me I was going to 
have a little sister, you remember, mamma, I 
was four years old and I was a perverse little 
thing. I cried out, ‘Oh, I d rather have a doll 
that can talk.’ I remember so well. Well, 
if he had given me my wish I should have lost 
or destroyed the doll in a few weeks or months 
at farthest. And here for twenty years Co- 


220 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


letters heart has been for me a perfect well- 
,spring of blessings. But it is only these last 
years that I have know'n enough to stoop and 
drink.” 

The conversation was saved from drifting 
into an awkwardly sentimental channel by 
Paul, who looked up from a paper over which 
he had been carelessly glancing. 

‘‘Here’s news!” he exclaimed. “What do 
you think.^ Verdac has been sent to Mazas 
prison for swindling.” 

“Hum!” said Monsieur Leander, “he has 
gone home at last, eh.^” 

A silence fell upon the group after this. The 
miserable ending of the ex-baron, bad as he 
had been, cast a temporary shadow over the 
happy family. Madame Chazeau and Colette 
presently began to walk up and down the 
garden path, with their arms about each 
other’s waists. The old marquis, who, was a 
great admirer of Balzac, regarded them com- 
placently for a moment and was minded to 
quote the words of Jules Demarest: 

“As women they are sublime: as mother 
and sister what language is capable of describ- 
ing their virtues!” 


THE PERFUME OF THE VIOLET 


221 


“Bravo!” exclaimed Monsieur Leander, 
raising his big felt hat from his head, gallantly. 
Then he added, sententiously: 

“If you are at a loss, monsieur the marquis, 
for words with which to describe my two 
daughters, Anna and Colette, let me aid you. 
They are saints on earth, but, all the same, 
they are visible, tangible, living and altogether 
human saints. Isn’t that so, monsieur the 
marquis.^” 

“Quite true. Monsieur Rouilhat.” 

“Very good, then let’s drink their healths.” 


THE END 








A 


''A K 




1 Vfe U':^„ ^ 

S ?5 " 

r -'\kvv: 

\ '^r- '' J. (>'.' C‘ 

«> '=^'^0^0^ ^0 -O 

>, > , 0 ^ ^ ^ %■ 

t ‘5 o T J>' ■' 

.A '^' '^^i. A ■^' '^■'^»'''>^ - 

■'-'•* .% ^ ^ V c 0 - . ^ ^ 0 ^ 

-^-, ^ ,*^ i, c-S>SN\ . -C> r,^ >y ^rv'T^ ^ I'D 






^ ,v 





'V> 




•-^.^ : xo 


*,,„>“V ^o/% 

O^ ^ ^ ^ 0 ^ 




\ 


'^y 




V </>, 


,x^-' 


' \ 'Z, '' ! 

' c ° ‘ -f ■^b 






0 >> v. 


/_A" 


't- ; -v’? 

: xo ^ 

^ a 1 


> ■ c^ 

* '^0 c* ^ 

^ 8 

AV' ^ V 0 

■' ■'i^ ' 

\ - 0 N G „ ^ , 



V> s'V^-v > 



^Qv V ' o ^ 

L» ^ xWo_ -i 'p 




-f n i ‘ \ 

A c“^ 



^ o 

^V - ^ ^ ^ ' <J^ y 

. 0 ^ < . 0 « X '*' \ \ O '/ 

\ <7 ^ ^ r-S-Wv ^ 

^ - '^z- > : -b. ^N' 

: xo o^, , 

% 



c. .. ,yr^ '' . ^ 


.0 


^ 81 '* X^"’ S *> <» ; ■ 

<* ^ ’ ^ ' 

^ <^’ xV ^ <r 

\ r ^ ^ \ I ft ^ t\^ 0 ^ ft "/ " ^ ^ 

^-%.'^v 7 :bb,\ .r - 

. -^ 4 . v^ = 

•« 


^ a 


A 




'O 


_ > -\ 

C' '''\'l!ol'^' a'^’ »' "'■ C> V' 

^ ^ ,;i^ '\ ^ <^V \V 

^ - -v .. ^•',^^l:z:JS^^ : ^ “ 

v» '^* ^ A tj- >. v» O' 

V'-' ,. -. 

^ ^ o 0 /vyi^ ^ 




C> ^ 

^81 

‘ ' \ V 

. C‘ 

V' , 

<o 



Cv _ 





